


The First and Final Armament

by aisling_in_outer_space



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Assassins & Hitmen, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Gen, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sith Shenanigans, Slow Burn, hux's life is suffering, i mean it's not quite smut but ya know it's ramadan and all, reader and kylo become shit twins who make hux's life unbearable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-05-24 17:56:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 105,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6161710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisling_in_outer_space/pseuds/aisling_in_outer_space
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The First Order and the Resistance wage war as the New Republic watches on, but they are not the only players in the galactic fight for control.  Assassins roam the galaxy in search of their next kill, playing by their own rules amidst constant battles.  One such assassin has her eyes set on the highest ranked general of the First Order, her sniper's blaster set and ready to fulfill her orders.  But her allegiances as an assassin will be tested and traded as she falls further and further down the rabbit hole that is the First Order and its ultimate destruction from the inside out.</p><p>[General Hux x Reader / OFC]<br/>[second person POV / reader is looking through OFC's eyes]<br/>[pre-, during-, and post-Episode 7]<br/>[rated Mature for violence, torture/abuse, sexual themes, language]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Assassin

**Chapter Soundtrack:** [Assassin (Muse)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YfRQXIJ3fEM)

* * *

_We are the first line of duty—unseen prevention._

_We are the final resort—the desperate intervention._

_The first and final armament—assassins in the night._

_Unknown but provoked—we bare victory and might._

* * *

 “Repeat it.” A voice rumbled from the dark. Ever so slowly, you lifted your head. How long had you been asleep in the metal chair? The shackles were still at your wrists with your hands secure behind the back of the chair. You tried to roll your shoulder, but a sharp pain shot through the left joint, past the shoulder blade and into your spine.

“ _Shit..._ ” you hissed, promising not to try that again.

The voice repeated, cracking through an intercom behind you. “Repeat your vows.”

You let out a sputtering sigh. “I didn't sign up for this.”

“You never signed up to begin with.”

He was always doing this—putting you into the worst situations and calling it 'training'. It was never training. Not truly. It was only his way of torturing you to see just how many buttons he could push, for just how long he could keep you in pain or fear before you broke.

“Raph, I'm not doing this any more,” you called. Even speaking seemed to hurt your shoulder, which was no doubt fully dislocated. “I'm not playing your games.”

Your voice had grown cold, demanding. But so was his.

“Repeat your vows. Now.”

“ _We are the first line of duty—unseen prevention_ _,_ ” you began to recite. How many times had these words come out of your mouth over the past thirteen years? “ _We are the final resort—the desperate intervention..._ ”

You paused for a moment, hissing again as the pain stabbed through you from your shoulder. “Raph, for fuck's sake--”

“Continue.”

“ _The first and final armament—assassins in the night._ ”

He waited on baited breath.

“ _Unknown but provoked—we bare victory and might._ ”

You spat the last few words, cringing as your shoulder rolled against the outside of its socket and then suddenly popped forward to lock back into place. You gasped, not even able to scream out from the pain of torn ligaments and sudden inflammation. Your heart felt like it had leapt into your throat—as though it was ready to escape your body all together. Surely, you had felt worse pain. So many bones broken, hit by blasters, punched and bloodied so often that it hadn't meant anything any more. But it was difficult to remember all of those past pains in light of the current, overwhelming one.

“Raph, let me free.”

“I suppose...”

The intercom static suddenly shut off, leaving you in complete darkness and silence. A minute passed. Two. Three, and a crack of light was suddenly on the floor, illuminating a tiny sliver of wall to your right. The shadow of a tall man was in the doorway, and the footsteps walked directly behind you. There was a fumbling against your shackles, and all at once, they fell from your wrists. Gasping, you pulled your left arm to your side, feeling the joint loose within its socket as though it would dislocate again.

“What the fuck is your deal?” you whispered as the man shoved you out of your chair and onto wobbly legs. “How the hell am I going to hold a blaster for tomorrow?”

“You'll figure something out.”

The man—Raph Niehaus—took you by the back of your shirt and nearly dragged you out of the dark room and into the hallway where a few old lights spat and sputtered, casting strange, green-hued shadows against the plate metal tiling. Raph pressed you against the wall, his fingers at your neck to check your pulse.

“It should be lower,” he mumbled.

You wanted to slap his hand away but knew better. He was the last person to piss off. Raph didn't care about the words that came out of your mouth—didn't care when you cursed or questioned him. But to touch him? _That_ was off limits.

There was no hiding the loathing you felt for him; he already was well aware that you hated his every touch, every demand. What was there _not_ to hate? He was another link in a long chain of buyers who had viewed you as nothing more than an object. So many people had laid claim and ownership to you over the years, and you hated them all, but none so much as Raph. No one had owned you for as long as him; no one had tried to destroy you in quite the same way.

He stood far taller than you, pale and thin but strong like steel cable. His short hair was just beginning to grey at the temples and show salt and pepper in his stubble. You had watched him age with such subtlety, watched as he began to wear tiny, circular glasses and was affected more strongly by caffeine. Watched as he grew crueller and smarter.

His fingers were still pressed to your neck. “In the next exercise, you will repeat your vows sooner.”

He counted for a few seconds whilst glancing at his watch, just waiting for your pulse to slip below 80 beats per minute again. “There we go...”

The very second that his fingers were off of your neck, you slipped past him and began to march your way down the hall, left arm still held firmly at your side. All you wanted at this moment was to escape back to your tiny closet of a room and nurse your shoulder that was throbbing along with your pulse.

The hall curved to the left, following the bowed length of the ship that had been floating through space. Sometimes the wall-mounted lights worked. Sometimes they didn't. You travelled through patches of darkness that mingled with eerie shadow, but you were used to it. As fucked up as it was, this was home. It had been since your early teen years after Raph had paid half price for you in an outpost market sale. Always privy to a good deal, he was. Especially when it came to purchasing the souls of his future assassins.

You were his fourth such assassin. The first was a man who was killed during training shortly after you had arrived. The second was a woman who perished on her sixteenth assassination, which Raph had never gotten over. The third was her replacement—an angry blonde named Anna who was still physically alive, but her personality had died long ago. And then there was you. Number four. More had come after you, most of whom were still training, and all of you followed the commands of Raph, whether you liked it or not. You had seen what happened to new purchases who didn't listen—who tried to fight back.

Freezing instantly, their bodies had floated through space for all to see outside the viewports. The force of the air lock breaking would send them flying so quickly that they sometimes shattered against the space debris just outside the ship. Other times, you could see the last second of life pass through their eyes before they were sucked into the dark, vacuum of space to fly endlessly as a chunk of human ice.

You refused to share their fate.

Raph was following behind you, and when you entered your tiny room—just big enough to hold a cot and a crate of belongings—he jammed the door open and stood in its way.

“You have another mission in four days.”

“Who and where?” you asked while sitting on the edge of your cot. It was exceedingly difficult to unlace your boots with just one hand, but you managed.

“Two captains of the First Order; their pictures are on your datapad. As for the location, we'll be docking in the Seswenna sector so that you can be dropped off in Eriadu. It's a trading centre—the entire planet.”

“No doubt you've been there before.” You didn't even bother asking. Raph was just as much of a business man as a trainer of assassins to serve his own pointless missions. “Bought anyone there?”

He didn't reply. “The First Order will be there with several ships of troops. Kill the two captains and return. Do you understand?”

You glanced up from beneath furrowed brows to meet his eyes. His were always so cold. Icy. Light blue like shards of glass.

“Yes,” you finally answered.

Raph gave a nod and finally stepped out of the way of your door so that it could slowly slide closed. “Good.” You could hear his voice on the other side; the door never slid fully shut anyway. “Take care of that shoulder of yours.”

Groaning, you stood up to yank the door the rest of the way into its frame so that you couldn't hear his voice, nor footsteps, nor anything else on the ship. You were anxious for a break from the pain, but that was wishful thinking. So instead, you began to scroll through the pictures on your datapad of two captains, both in their Storm Trooper armour but with helmets nestled under their arms. There was nothing remarkable about them. Nothing to make them stand out in your mind and certainly nothing to keep you from following your orders. It was just another mission, and in four days, those two captains would be dead.

You clicked the datapad's power switch and set it under the cot as you laid back to stare at the ceiling. This was your life. The pain, the killing, the fear, the anger. All of it was yours, and though you were aware that life didn't necessarily have to be that way, you weren't quite sure what it was like to live without being under the ever-watchful eyes of Raph Niehaus. What was life even like for people who were free? For people who weren't traded and bought and sold like a commodity?

However it was that they lived, you knew that it was a life outside of your reach. This was here. This was now. _This is my life._ And Raph's repeated vows were chiming in your ears.

“ _We are the first line of duty—unseen prevention. We are the final resort—the desperate intervention. The first and final armament—assassins in the night. Unknown but provoked—we bare victory and might._ ”

* * *

 **A/N:** Welcome to my second fic! TFAFA will focus on a completely new reader and her relationships with the members of the First Order and a team of elite assassins. You can look forward to the reader becoming friends with Kylo Ren as they make Hux's life a living hell, all to blow up in her face when it turns out that she may or may not also have a thing for the red headed General.


	2. Actress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to kill and time to maim as you follow Raph's orders to kill two captains of the First Order and collect information about their future whereabouts.

**Chapter Soundtrack:** [ Kill v Maim ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c2EJMd7ZN7w&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZua5eEwIyZTfyaD9xW06qP&index=2) (Grimes)

* * *

 

Eriadu was a hell of a disgusting planet, and you did not say that lightly. Covered in urban sprawl and drenched in pollution, it was nothing more than a massive hub of business and trade. Its politicians had long since stopped caring about the levels of toxic smog, the open sewers, or the burning trash pits that covered hundreds of miles at a go. If they made a profit, then they were fine with the planet being destroyed in garbage. They too were garbage. Everyone was.

You landed a small cruiser on the surface and was directed toward a lane of parking near an industrial park. Thick smoke poured from the chimneys of the factories, hiding the sky from view. You glanced up where Raph's ship must have been, hundreds of miles above the atmosphere. He was too clean to come to this dirty of a planet or to spill  lowly  blood on his own hands, and so he had sent you. But there was nothing in that thought to surprise you—not when considering that you were damned good at what you did. Which was killing people.

After parking the cruiser, you rummaged around a leather bag of civilian clothes to pull out a beige veil that tugged over your head and included a portion of fabric to cover your mouth and nose. The apparent fashion of this planet was to veil oneself, which was really just a convenient way to reduce the amount of inhaled pollution. None of this particularly bothered you as you attached the loose section of the veil behind your ear so that only your eyes and forehead were showing. Eriadu fashion made for a wonderful disguise.

You slung the leather bag over your  right  shoulder and began to pack it with a few weapons:  two  small blaster s , the detached pieces of a sniper's blaster that you had owned for nearly a decade, a few bombs, a datapad loaded with maps and assignment details, and a day's worth of rations and water. Hopefully that would be all you needed.

Raph had marked exactly where to go and with whom to speak before killing the  two  captains, and you pulled up the orders on the datapad as you walked  through the parking lot. It was crowded, and a certain electricity ran through the early morning air. Merchants were unpacking their cruisers of goods, ready to sell and haggle through the day. Slaves ran back and forth from merchant stalls a quarter mile away and to cruisers to grab forgotten wares. The frenzy was comfortable, familiar. Like the veil over your face, it could hide even the worst of intentions amidst the chaos. That would make today's mission all the more easy.

According to the datapad, you were to begin strolling through the merchants' shops, haggling every now and then, looking at whatever you wanted. Scope out the place; get acquainted with the layout. Then you would seek out any Troopers for conversation. A large group of them were supposed to be doing some trading in that particular market today, and it was up to you to discover their next mission before seeking out the captains.  _How_ you were supposed to discover this information was not stated; it looked as though you would be left to your own devices. Once again, that was fine. You were fully capable.

In fact, you happened to have your  _own_ plan in mind.

Sneaking behind a merchant stall of exotic-looking fruits, you unzipped your bag to pull out  one of  your small er blaster s . The stall was made of rough burlap hung as a canopy with an open front, and you pulled away a back section of the fabric to peer inside. A man with a messy turban and his son sat inside among boxes and bags of fruit, and a heavily laden table stood between them and the main road full of pedestrians. Their view of the road and a nearby courtyard was excellent. Both of them had their backs to you, and you grinned as you twisted a piece of your blaster into a position to soften the sound of its shooting.

It took you only a second to fully lift the burlap and cross through the stand. Your blaster was against the man's neck, and he flinched as his son fell from his seat and scooted back on his bottom.

“Don't say a word,” you whispered into his ear. He nodded, eyes wide in shock. You pressed the blaster harder against the back of his neck and could feel the barrel roll over his bony spine. The man was malnourished.

His son was still on the ground and staring at you in silence. He was thin, his hair matted and brittle. How ironic that they would be selling expensive fruits and yet most likely hadn't eaten in days.

You motioned with your eyes at the boy, directing him to leave the merchant stand through the back. He crawled out without even a glance toward his father. Then you slid onto his open seat and lowered the blaster so that it was pressed against the man's ribs.

“You get any Troopers who visit this stand?” you asked.

He was utterly terrified, but mouthed a 'yes'.

“Good.” You turned to view the passersby but kept the blaster at his waist. “You can leave with your son and come back in a few hours. But alert anyone, and I won't hesitate to destroy every piece of your livelihood.” You opened your bag and showed him the two bombs that were rolling around. Like his son, he didn't need to ask any questions, but he slowly backed away from your blaster and left through the back of the stall. Within a single minute, you had gained the best outlook on everyone who passed through the entire market.

It was easy enough to sell the fruit to anyone who stopped by. Other women wearing long veils came by the stall to inspect the fruit on occasion, and you would haggle back and forth with them. For a short while, it was possible to play pretend. Today, you were an actor of the stage, playing the role of starving fruit-seller. A bit role, but simple enough. The lines were easy.

_Yes. No. Five credits more. Sixteen credits for both._

So on and so forth.

It didn't take long until you started to see Troopers in the market. They walked in their dust-covered white armour, blasters at their sides and crates in their arms. You weren't sure what exactly they were after, but it seemed to be business as usual for all of them. Usually in pairs, they would visit different merchants to gather certain items in the crates, and then one Trooper would carry both full crates back to the parking lot where their ship was most likely waiting. After a few minutes, two Troopers made their way over to your stall, and this was when your tiny role of merchant was able to shine.

“What'cha guys up to?” you asked, faking both boredom and curiosity at the same time. You unlatched the removable section of the veil from your face so that they could see your lips. Maybe a little charm would work in your favour; it  _usually_ did.

One of the Troopers started to gather several of the fruits in a transparent bag and placed them on a scale as the other attempted to ignore you. Or well, he  _tried_ to ignore you until the veil was removed from your face. He gave a little flinch as though he hadn't seen a woman's face in a year.

The smell of the air was bloody awful, but you pretended that it didn't bother you. You were  _acting_ , damn it! You could handle a few minutes of smog.

“Getting groceries for everyone?” you asked.

The Trooper not actively filling a bag with spiky, ruby-red fruits nodded. His hand went up to the back of his head, and he gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, dinner duty.”

You winked. “Could be worse, huh? It could've been janitorial duty, right?”

He laughed again. It was a little too loud, a little too nervous, a little too forced. You were under his skin with doe eyes and four sentences. Excellent.

“So, uh... What do you recommend?” he asked, picking up a round, green fruit and inspecting the tiny violet dots on its surface.

You had no damned idea what any of these fruits were, but he didn't know that. “Well, perhaps not that one,” you mentioned whilst plucking the green and purple fruit from his hand. You made sure to brush against his fingers for just long enough that he would know it wasn't accidental. “Perhaps this.” You handed him a smaller, orange fruit that had several white blossoms sprouting from its stem.

He held it firmly in his hand and motioned to the other Trooper to add a few of them to the bag. “It looks delicious.”

“It is.”

“So...” He still held the fruit like it was a stress ball. “Are you around here often?”

What a dumb fucking question, but at least it gave you a way to shift the conversation toward the information you  _actually_ needed.

“Oh, every now and then,” you answered. “It's the family business. And what about you? How often are you at this market?”

He shrugged. “Every few weeks for shipments, gathering supplies. I don't get to be here as much as some of the others.”

“I see. Where else do you get to go? I  _never_ get to be off this planet.”

The other Trooper had finished gathering the fruit and weighing everything and was ready to pay, but you ignored her. She would have to wait until you had the information you wanted.

The male Trooper seemed to take some pity on you. It must be a hellish idea to live on this trash heap for an entire lifetime without leaving. “That's... wow, I can't imagine just living here,” he commented. “I'm actually off to Abafar next week. Nice planet. Or, well, er, kinda hot and dusty, but nicer than...”

“NG-7467, stop flirting,” the female Trooper demanded. She handed him the bag of fruit to place into his crate and then offered you the appropriate amount of credits. “Abafar is a desert planet—not much better than this one. You aren't missing out on much.”

“Huh...” You started to count through the credits that she had offered. “What do you guys do on a desert planet?”

She didn't want to answer you, but the other Trooper was more than happy to oblige. “Training, mostly. But we've got a mission—”

The female Trooper cut him off. “That is classified.” She pointed him in the direction of the parking lot, and he turned with slumped shoulders as he carried the crate. She turned back to you. “I apologise for his behaviour.”

You shrugged and winced at your left shoulder. It was still sore from having dislocated four days before, which the Trooper noticed but said nothing about.

“It's okay,” you replied, and you placed your veil back over your nose and mouth. “I'm just bored.”

“Understandable.” She took some change from your open hand. “Thank you.”

“No, thank  _you_ ,” you whispered as she walked away. So a rather large training mission was to occur in a week on Abafar? Good to know. Raph would be pleased. No doubt you would find yourself there with a sniper's blaster at the ready, and whoever it was that Raph needed to kill would find themselves with a tiny red dot on their forehead.

And then no forehead at all.

This point seemed like as good a time as any to slip away from the fruit stand and make your way over to a toxic-looking fountain in the market square. You sat on the ledge of the fountain, feeling the mist dampen the veil against your back. It was miserably hot out in the desert sun, and the humidity of the fountain wasn't helping, but you had faced worse conditions before. Hell, Raph's ship was usually just as uncomfortable because he was too cheap to run environmental regulation on board. So, hot or cold, humid or dry enough to crack your lips until they bled, you were used to it. This was no different.

You scrolled through your datapad again, noting any extra information that Raph had included about the two captains you were meant to kill, though there wasn't much. You had their pictures, their identification numbers, and the precise detailing of their armour that would help you tell them apart from the lesser Troopers. But aside from that, you were on your own. Typical.

Glancing back toward the market stalls, you watched as more of the Troopers headed back to their ship with heavily laden crates of goods. Thus far, the captains hadn't yet appeared. Only the new recruits were about, running errands. But it was only a matter of time before they appeared, or so you hoped. This mission would be considerably less difficult if they would step off their  damned  ship and get in range of you r sniper's blaster. The idea of having to go inside of a First Order ship was kind of the opposite of what you wanted to do today, but if you had to, you would. And you would find a way back out.

Another set of Troopers passed by, and you stood, slowly following behind them. You held your bag as though it was heavy and filled with market wares; no one would believe that you weren't just another merchant, returning goods to your ship. So long as you kept a proper distance behind the Troopers and meandered  _just enough_ , they wouldn't be suspicious.

As the Troopers neared a large First Order carrier, you slipped behind a beat up freighter parked a few metres away to watch. The Troopers were busy packing goods into the hull of the carrier with only a few guarding the ship. It appeared that an attack wasn't on their mind; this was simply business as usual. You noted two Troopers standing at guard beside an entrance ramp and another two at the front of the ship, okaying anyone who came near. But what remained unguarded was the  _side_ of the ship that lied directly in front of you. Like two buildings sharing an alleyway, the freighter had been parked very close by, leaving little room to walk past.

Your eyes trailed up the side of the carrier, noting the doors that were most likely locked from the inside and viewports. A set of handles roped up the side, twisting between tiny platforms used by maintenance workers, and at the top of the handles—at the  _very_ top of the ship were two latched doors. You knew from helping with maintenance on Raph's ship that they led to two specific places: petrol storage and heated air-ducts.

Heated air-ducts that would most likely be turned off due to Eriadu's insufferably hot weather.

_Bingo_ .

If the Troopers were all going on board in droves, then it was looking likely that the captains would not be emerging, so you took a deep breath and slipped beneath the freighter to get closer to the First Order's ship. Glancing in both directions at the guards, you waited for one set to become busy with passersby and the other to simply turn away, and then you launched.

Like a bullet from a gun, you dashed between the ships and started to climb the metal rungs that led up the side of the carrier. Palms sweaty, you gripped each rung with the beige veil wrapped around your hands, watching as it got covered in grease and the residual smog that had settled upon every ship. Your heart was beating in your throat as you glanced about, making sure that you weren't seen, but it was no different from any other mission. Or at least it wouldn't have been different if it had not been for that damned left shoulder! Reaching for anything was dangerous enough with the ligaments still over stretched from having been dislocated, but putting weight on it? A bad idea. A  _really, really_ bad idea.

When you finally reached the top of the ship, you fell flat onto your back, catching your breath and holding your  left arm tight against your torso.

“Mother fucker...” Raph's silly, stupid,  training  games had really done a number this time. “I'm too old for this shit.”

Groaning, you flipped over onto your stomach and inspected the latches on the metal doors that were just large enough for someone to slip inside of for maintenance and cleaning. You would be doing neither of those things. Unless killing captains of the First Order counted as maintenance and cleaning. You grinned, cocky  and far too pleased with yourself  as you made  silent jokes about killing off vermin.

“Today, I'm the clean up crew,” you whispered whilst unscrewing several bolts from the door labelled as being 'oxygen sensitive'. If that wasn't code for an air duct, you didn't know what was.

The door was just nearly unscrewed when you heard several of the Troopers moving below you.

“Last crate?”

“Affirmative.”

“About time; Captain Delta wanted to leave an hour ago.”

“Tell him it will just be another five minutes.”

_Five minutes._

You could feel your eyes widen and mouth go dry. Five minutes? Five minutes to break in, kill two captains, and find a way out?  _Shit._ Suddenly, your fingers were unscrewing the bolts at twice their speed, and you ripped the door from its hinges, tossing it to the side without even worrying about the noise. Quickly, you kicked both legs into the dark opening and slipped through, falling a few feet before landing against aluminium ducts.

The temperature had been hot outside, but now it was damn near boiling. You ripped at the veil over your face as you began to crawl through the hot air ducts,  revealing your standard black tanktop and trousers .  Anything to cool you off would help—anything to help you move a little bit faster through the dark ducts.

A small torch light was in your bag, and you shuffled blindly until you felt it beneath your fingers and clicked it on. Holding the light between your teeth, you kept moving with your bag slung over your back. The ducts were narrowing ahead, and you slipped to an army crawl, making a few turns to get to the interior of the ship.

Thus far, the only noises that you had heard had been your own as you travelled unceremoniously through the aluminium air ducts, but as you neared the centre of the ship, you could hear the Troopers below. Voices, footsteps, echoes of crates thudding in the distance.  And then to your left, an engine started to whir into action with deep rotations of its motor. Cursing, you moved even faster. The engine would completely cover up any noise you made, but it meant that you had just that much less time before this ship would be moving through the atmosphere with you still on board.

Just ahead were slats of light shining through a metal grate, and you peeked out to see several Troopers walking past in a hallway beneath you. One Trooper. Two. Three. Four. And then a Trooper wearing a red and black cape over their left shoulder and directing another two Troopers with crates. Grinning, you silently pulled  your blaster from your bag and wedged the barrel between two slats, taking aim directly at the captain's helmeted head. According to all of Raph's figures, there were only two captains on board, so this had to be one of them.

Your fingers tapped against the blaster as the captain's walk slowed. Breathe in. Breathe out. You could hear your own heart beating as the captain finally stood still. Aim. Inhale. Finger twitch. Exhale. And then...

_BLAST!_

The captain fell to his knees, no helmet upon his head. No head upon his body. Just a bloody torso with twitching arms and legs that fell forward as the metal crate beneath you crashed to the floor with a loud clatter. At once, the Troopers beneath you jumped out of the way, their blasters drawn as they looked around  in frightened confusion . Not wasting a moment, you rolled over the open hole in the air duct and crawled even faster. Now that they were aware of your presence, there was no time to lose.

At the next grate, you blasted it open and dropped down, landing directly on top of a Trooper who had been running. You wobbled on his shoulders as he tried not to fall down, and then with a twist of your legs, the momentum brought him down to the floor. He tried to reach for his blaster, but you squeezed your legs around his neck even harder and felt the sickening snap of vertebrae against your thigh. He twitched a few times, hand never making it down to his blaster. Unwrapping your legs from around his broken neck, you stood up and started to make a wild dash down the hall and toward where the cockpit had to be. At this point, if you could stop the ship from launching into space, then you could buy enough time to find the second captain. Or so you hoped.

Two more Troopers were now running behind you, and a blast of bright blue plasma crashed into a metal door frame beside you. Spinning on your heels, you shot twice and watched both Troopers fall to the ground. Ducking down a hallway, you  saw a sign pointing towards the cockpit and made a wild dash toward the open doorway. With a slide, you crashed against a Trooper, both of you falling in a heap to the floor as a second Trooper fell out of their seat in surprise.

A massive cape was tangled around you, and you tore at the red velvet as you rolled away, which only knocked the Trooper down a second time. Jumping to your feet  with the Trooper's cape trapped beneath your boot , you managed to hold your blaster at the ready and slam your fist against the open door's keypad so that it swiftly shut to seal the three of you inside of a tiny cockpit.

“Hands on your head,” you demanded of the Trooper who had been seated as you pulled a second blaster from your bag and aimed at each of them. She had been half way to a stand when you held the blaster to her head. The badge on her chest read 'Pilot'. Well, there would be no piloting today. She quickly scrambled away from her seat and placed both hands on the back of her head.

“Happy now?” she spat.

“Not quite. Face the wind shield.”

The pilot slowly turned just as the other Trooper finally pulled themselves up from the mess of their cape having been torn and stuck under your boot.

“Ah, yes,” you hummed. “The other  one .  Captain Delta, correct? ”

He came to a full stand, a blaster in his hands that was aimed for your torso. But with your main blaster in your right hand—just mere inches from his face—he wasn't going to make a move.  Captain Delta was fully at your mercy.

Your left shoulder still ached more than ever as you held the second blaster at the back of the pilot, and you made the decision to kick with your left leg, your foot landing squarely against the back of the pilot to keep her pressed against the glass screen. Then you lowered your left arm to your side whilst still keeping the blaster in hand.

“You're the one,”  Captain Delta hissed. “The one who just broke in. How many of you are there on board?”

You rolled your eyes whilst balancing on your right leg and pressing the blaster even closer to the captain's head.

“Just me. Now drop it.”

He slowly lowered his blaster, letting it drop to the ground with a thud. “ Who are you?”

“ _The first and final armament—assassins in the night_ ,” you quoted.

“That doesn't answer--”

You interrupted.  “And your helmet. Take it off.”

Once again, he obliged but took his sweet time. All the while, a constant stream of threats poured out. He would kill you. His soldiers would also kill you. There would be nothing left to bring back to the First Order once they were through. You would be a pile of bones, and your skull would sit on the general's shelf--

“You really need to be quiet,” you sighed as his helmet crashed against the floor alongside his blaster. “I don't have time for your shit.”

“You don't have time at all. How long do you plan to keep this up before my soldiers storm this cockpit? You can't be here for long.”

You laughed, once again rolling your eyes. “Trust me; I know that. But I'm not going to  _be here_ for long. Don't you worry.”

He glared at you, readying himself to make a long-winded and daring speech, but you scoffed.

“Oh, just shut up.”

And with a pull of your index finger, your blaster shot him in the face.

As he fell backwards against the cockpit's controls, you  l anded a hard kick against the back of the pilot, knocking her head against the glass, and she slumped down to the ground.  Those Trooper helmets never seemed to be all that effective at actually preventing head injuries.

Looking up, you could see another metal grate where the air would be pumped through the cockpit, and you blasted the grate from its hinges. It swung down, creaking and squeaking against rusty bolts. Hopping onto the leather copilot's seat, you managed to hoist yourself back into the air duct and scurry away just as the Troopers opened the cockpit door with a series of yells and blaster bursts.

Even though you had just literally blasted the heads off of two captains and killed a few other Troopers along the way, you couldn't keep the smile off of your face. Stars! This was all such a rush! The adrenaline was pumping through your veins, heart beating faster and faster, aches and pains dissipating if for only a moment because of the sheer excitement.

“Did it!” you whispered whilst crawling faster and faster through the air ducts. The sounds of blasters were growing closer, and a burst of light illuminated the duct as a blast of plasma shot through the ceiling and into the duct  directly behind you . Another blast followed, and you turned down a second duct and then climbed vertically through a third. Good luck to the bastards trying to kill you now!

Continuing your climb, you reached the top of the air duct that most likely led to the centre top of the carrier, and you unlatched a circular door to reveal the bright  yellow , smog-filled sky of Eriadu. It just took a little kick to push your legs out of the hole and drag the rest of your body along so that you were seated on the roof. Pulling your leather bag's strap tighter against your chest, you slid down the side of the ship and landed on all fours upon the dusty ground.

Getting to your feet, you started to run. Run like hell. Run madly and as fast as you possibly could  across the burning hot pavement . You ducked under the ship that had been parked close by and then past a few Troopers who were running in the opposite direction as though trying to get back to their ship to help out as soon as possible. But it was too late for them. You were gone. Gone and feeling pretty damned pleased with yourself the entire way back to your cruiser on the other side of the lot.

Today, you had won. Raph would be pleased, and you grinned again, ignoring the burning in your chest from the heat and pollution and exertion. Yes,  _today_ you had won.

* * *

 

** A/N: ** A note on TFAFA's playlists and soundtracks: rather than having a separate playlist for each chapter, I plan to create a large playlist on Youtube and link you all to a different place with each chapter. This will provide you with the song that is the chapter's soundtrack but also similar songs playing afterwards to get you in a certain mood for the current chapter. It's a little different than SkS, but I've been having fun playing with this particular playlist over the past month. I hope that you enjoy the variety and feel free to listen to different songs at your pleasure.

 


	3. Abafar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raph demands a bigger prize for your next mission against the First Order—the highest ranked general in the entire military. Though daunting, you and another assassin travel to the planet of Abafar to press your luck, but little do you know that this particular First Order training exercise is being monitored by none other than Kylo Ren.

**Chapter Soundtrack:** [Andeel (Natacha Atlas)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1XnlX8DTC8&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZua5eEwIyZTfyaD9xW06qP&index=7&nohtml5=False)

* * *

 

 

“Hey, loser, it's your turn for dishes.”

Anna's scratchy voice carried down the hall, and she beat her fist against your partially closed door. Your tiny closet of a room echoed with each pound. Groaning, you swung your legs to the floor and sat up on your cot.

“Bitch, it's Tomas's turn,” you whined.

“But he sucks at dishes.” Anna kicked open your door to slide it into the wall and leaned her back against the door frame. Her straight, blonde hair hung loose at her shoulders, and she let out a yawn. A few years older than you, Anna always looked simultaneously exhausted and bored with everything around her. Like yourself, she had been owned by Raph for most of her life and had killed more people than she could count for the man. Her drooping, chocolate brown eyes scanned you as you sat on your cot, left arm still held tight against your torso. You had used a belt to keep it in place as the ligaments healed, but it was of little use when chores on board demanded both arms.

“Maybe if Tomas does the dishes every now and then, he'll get enough practise to not suck as much,” you sighed whilst standing and following Anna out into the hallway.

“There ain't no teachin' boys how to clean at this age,” she commented.

“That's rather sexist.”

Anna shrugged. “Just do 'em; you're the best, anyway. Less for Raph to get pissed about.”

You groaned, shuffling your feet all the way down the hall. “You slay me, Anna.”

“One day, maybe I will for real.”

“Liar.”

“You caught me.”

Both of you headed into the kitchen of the ship—a metal trap of a room, like a magician's box for someone to suffocate inside of. Anna perched herself on a stool and started to sort through a few boxes of food, noting down expiration dates. Not that she planned on throwing out the food that was expired, because _all_ of it was expired, but she had the final decision on what would be eaten next so that the least amount went to waste. Meanwhile, you unclasped the belt that was around your arm and waist and slowly moved your arm forward with a hiss.

Still sore. Still wobbly in its socket. Dislocated shoulders were the worst.

You slowly started to scrub away at dishes in a large sink, getting your arms wet with suds up to your elbows.

“What's Tomas even doing?” He certainly wasn't doing his chores; that was for sure.

“Stupid shit for Raph. Netal is visiting soon.”

Your eyes went wide. Netal. _Bazine Netal_. Now, if there was anyone in the galaxy that you wanted to meet the most, it would be her. Bazine Netal was the best damned assassin and spy this side of the solar system, and you had only seen her in passing over the years. She would meet with Raph on occasion to share business propositions and stories over bottles of whiskey, and you could remember sneaking up to open doors to peek inside and watch her move. No one had the same grace. Each step Bazine took was like a dance as she moved across the room. Every gesture of her hands told a story—her fingers dipped in black ink to exaggerate their movement. And by damn, her clothes were fabulous in their black and white patterns, though you had been told that the patterns threw off certain radio frequencies and were used to disrupt comms. Clever woman. _Very_ clever woman.

“When is she coming?” you asked excitedly as Anna continued her sorting.

“Calm your shit, Heart-Eyes. Like an hour. I'm sure you'll know when she's on board. Big fuss 'n all.”

Yes, Anna was right. For no other person did Raph pull out all the stops. You were actually surprised that you hadn't heard _sooner_ about her arrival considering the amount of cleaning that Raph usually made you all do. It must have been a surprise for him, too. Something serious must have been in the works.

“Why do you think she's stopping by?”

“Stars and fuckin' galaxies, you ask a lot of questions.”

“I'm just curious. It seems to be out of nowhere.”

“Probably about all the ships comin' by from the First Order. There's been an increase for two months in the Outer Rim; they're plannin' somethin'. Raph probably wants to know what since Netal's his informant and has ties to them.”

“She's spying for the First Order these days?”

“Apparently they pay well.” Anna shuffled through a few more boxes of freeze-dried food and then shut the metal cabinets and latched a lock. “Listen, finish the dishes, and we'll go spy on Netal when she gets here. Deal?”

You gave a quick nod and started working faster on the dishes. “Deal.”

* * *

 “The First Order wasn't pleased with your meddling.” A low, smoky voice came from within Raph's highly decorated meeting room. The rest of the ship could decay, but he kept that single room looking like a king's den, and today, it was being graced by the queen of bounty hunters herself. Like a nightmarish melody, Bazine Netal's accented voice carried to where you and Anna crouched in the dark hallway. “Killing two captains is risky. Captain Delta was up for a promotion, and a power vacuum was left in his wake. They search for you at this very moment.”

“Yes, but you forget that they do not yet know of my identity,” Raph replied, smug as ever. “No name to the deed. Not even my ship has a name. It's all kept discreet.”

“Do you forget that _I_ know your name?”

“Even _you_ , my dear, know to never reveal my whereabouts. That pretty head of yours knows how to play the game; don't make mistakes.”

Bazine took in a deep breath, but her voice remained calm. “Always the condescending bastard, Raph.”

“Nothing changes.” Raph poured a shot of amber whiskey into a glass, swishing it around for a few seconds as Bazine picked at her black nails. He watched her with those icy eyes, seeing how each of her movements was precise, controlled. What he wouldn't do to have her, make her his own, turn her into one of his assassins. But she was out of his price-range. Too risky. Too old to be taken in and moulded to his liking. Raph picked up his assassins when they were young enough to be poured into a cast and revealed as a new person—a person who could kill, who could destroy. Some called it brain-washing. He called it business.

“And where does your next mission lead?” Bazine asked after Raph had refilled her own glass.

“Abafar.”

“That godforsaken desert planet? No wonder you had asked for information on its socio-political structures last week. Not very exciting,” she commented. “Who's meeting their demise?”

You could tell that Raph must be smiling from the amount of time he gave between her question and finally answering. “The highest of the high.”

“In the First Order?”

“Of course.”

Bazine sucked in another deep breath, but this time, her tone had changed. It was darker, lower. Her words were a threat. “Dangerous, Raph. _Very_ dangerous. You know as well as I that we do not go after such people.”

He laughed, a cold, humourless sound that chilled you to the bone. “He pays you, so I'm not surprised to find you unreceptive to--”

“It is not that!” Bazine stood up, pacing back and forth in the meeting room. Her accent was coming out stronger, twisting her words so that they were as sharp as daggers. “Your petty games were ignorable when it was just captains, but this... You would go after the general?”

“Make no mistake: I never settle for the small hits.”

“Why go after him? What makes him so special? Surely this isn't about the money you would be paid?” she spat.

“If I told you, then I would have to send someone along to slice your _lovely_ throat.”

Bazine's black fingers leapt to her neck, gliding over the tight hood that hid all but her face. Her eyes narrowed at Raph as she let her hand fall back to her side. Raph knew damned well that she wore this to hide the scars of childhood burns. His comment was acid in an old but open wound.

Anna groaned beside you and plopped down on her bottom with her back leaning against the wall of the hallway. She folded her muscular arms over her chest and closed her eyes, listening whilst biting at the inside of her cheek. Obviously, she didn't like where this conversation was going; an angry Netal put you _all_ at risk. You still kept your face just against the crack in the door, watching and listening intently.

“You know...” Anna sighed, “Raph got most of his info about Abafar from Netal.”

“Yes,” you whispered, recalling that Bazine was often Raph's informant. They may have never had a polite relationship with one another, but they were still professional partners. “I'm being sent there later this week... I suppose that general is my next target.”

“Yeah, I know; I'm coming with you.”

That was a surprise. Your attention immediately turned away from spying on Raph and Bazine, and you turned to Anna. “What do you mean?”

“I mean it's a two person job, loser. Raph assigned me last night.”

“He hadn't told me.” You sat down directly beside Anna, frowning at the metal floor beneath your feet. If Raph thought to put two people on the mission, then it must be just as dangerous as Bazine made it out to be. Was this a suicide mission? The thought settled in your head, not wanting to leave, and you were sure that Raph would refuse to shed any light on the subject. He simply gave you your orders and sent you on your way.

Anna gave your knee a pat. “He doesn't tell anyone 'why'. Don't take it personally. He's always gonna play by his own rules. Just like her.” Anna motioned to the door, and you could hear Bazine continuing to argue with Raph from inside. “They know things we don't. Play by their own rules, their own games. Raph goes with his gut and vendettas. Bazine goes with the money. It makes 'em both dangerous.”

At that moment, the door to the meeting room slid open, and Bazine walked out into the hallway, her eyes narrowing as she saw you and Anna on the floor.

“I thought I smelled spies,” she mumbled under her breath. Nothing ever went unnoticed by her. She gave each of you a glance that read like a book, but her eyes lingered particularly on you. They screamed out, almost in pity. “I see a dead woman,” she finally commented. You swallowed a lump that had lodged in your throat, knowing full well that Bazine didn't expect to ever see _you_ again. Not unless you were in a body bag. Huffing, she stepped past both of you, her long legs taking her down the hall so that she could immediately leave this intolerable ship and head for her own. Raph always left a bad taste in her mouth.

Only a second later, Raph emerged from the room to see both of you on the floor. Anna immediately scrambled to her feet and grabbed at your left hand to help you up so that you could scurry away with her, but you felt the joint twist in its socket and re-dislocate. You gave out a yelp and fell back to the floor as Anna dashed away from sight. Raph stared down his long nose and let out a cold laugh at seeing you attempt to shove your arm back in its damned socket. Stars, the pain was excruciating! But all of that burning pain as the joint popped back into place was meaningless in the face of Raph's continued laughter. It echoed through the hallway as he lurked over you, eyes flitting from your shoulder to your face and back again.

You slowly rose to your feet, keeping your head down. His laugh was now just a memory ringing in your ears as he inspected you. Each beat of your heart pounded against the torn ligaments of your shoulder, and you counted the beats, waiting.

All at once, Raph's hands moved forward, slamming you back against the wall. The back of your head hit against the metal, and stars flew through your vision.

“That wasn't a conversation meant for you.”

“I'm sorry.” You could only squeak out a whisper as he trapped you against the wall, hands on either side of you. He stared at you once more, and you began to wonder just what it was he was planning to do to you. You had seen first hand how cruel he could be—what he could do both physically and psychologically to someone who had disobeyed him. Finally, his face gave a twitch, and he shoved you again, hand directly upon your left shoulder. Once again, the ball of the joint swivelled in its socket, and a rush of nausea filled your stomach and throat. Not a single noise left your mouth as the air knocked from your lungs.

Slipping down to the floor, your right hand leapt back to your arm, hugging it tight. Raph merely gave another laugh—lighter than last time. The fact that he found genuine humour in your suffering was just another layer of humiliation, but that was all part of his game. He walked past you, meandering down the hall with his hands in his pockets that thumbed with an expandable metal stick, no doubt ready to go punish Anna in much the same way.

* * *

 

General Hux squinted his eyes whilst shielding his face with his gloved hand. He had been warned that Abafar would be against his liking—hot and dry and so bright that it physically hurt his retinas to look out at the sandy environment—but no amount of warnings could truly prepare him for how much he would despise this planet. He had only been away from Starkiller Base for two days, and he already missed the snow.

Ahead of him, Kylo Ren marched through the sand, equally as displeased but at least saving his eyes from strain behind that darkly visored helmet of his. Though Hux couldn't imagine just how miserably hot the knight must be with his multiple layers of black. At least Hux had the sense to trade in his usual black for a light grey uniform meant for bright, sunny climates. But Ren? Having sense? Preposterous.

“Stop complaining,” Kylo Ren's mechanical voice threatened as he looked over his shoulder at General Hux. “Your thoughts are suffocating.”

“Excuse my discomfort,” Hux snapped, adjusting the small brim of his cap so that it would shade his face. “I wasn't made for these wretched climates.”

“Obviously.” Ren laughed to himself and stepped forward through the sand. Honestly, he wasn't cut out for the heat and bright sun and sand, either. He had always despised the texture—the way it managed to get into his boots and gloves with no effort at all—the way it burned any exposed skin as the wind swept the dunes. A miserable place, the sandy dunes were often called The Void for lack of a better term. No natural population. No water for hundreds of miles. Just old mines that had long since been abandoned after the Clone Wars and more heat than you could shake a stick at. But he wasn't about to shout out his complaints when Hux was so eager to do it for him. _Let the general whine,_ he thought. _Let him suffer._

Kylo Ren continued forward, sliding on his heels down a dune to where dozens of Storm Troopers were at work to clear a mining shaft where separatists had searched for rhydonium back in the day. The goal was to use the mines in a series of training exercises under Captain Phasma's command. Kylo Ren and General Hux were along for the show—both to practise in military drills alongside the Troopers as well as to give them some real-life training. It was Phasma's idea; she considered it to be a bonding experience, though Hux would have preferred to use his simulations aboard the Starkiller Base. Simulations were less dangerous but just as realistic. Fewer harm to personnel. Fewer risks of being blown apart in a mine shaft from decades old explosives.

Hux kept to the top of the dune, close to Ren's personal ship that cast a dark shadow against the sand. He meandered into the shade, speaking into a comm with Phasma as she organised the removal of twisted metal from the shaft.

“It should be completely cleared within two hours,” she confirmed, her voice posh and showing no signs of fatigue from the intense heat. The sun was casting spectacular spots of light upon the sand because of her chrome armour, and she nearly glittered as she walked. Hux could see her every move from his vantage point.

“And after that, I would like for a team of six Troopers to inspect the mines using lead ropes.”

“Are you expecting for us to have to pull out bodies, General?”

“I'm never too careful.”

He clipped the comm onto his black leather belt and folded his arms, leaning against the edge of the ship. Ren was walking back up the sand, cursing through his voice modulator as sand slipped into his boots, and Hux smirked at watching him struggle.

Kylo Ren reached the top of the dune and ripped his helmet from his head, sweat dripping down his face and plastering his dark hair to his forehead. Trudging into the shade, he pulled an aluminium bottle of water from a holding container pressed in the sand and took a long drink. He refilled it from a nozzle on the side of the ship and then wiped at the sweat on his brow whilst looking out into the sandy distance. A small, glitter of light had caught his eyes, and he frowned in its direction.

“Not so comfortable now, are you, Ren?” Hux asked, that cocky smile still plastered to his face.

Kylo Ren rolled his dark eyes, and with a slight twist of his fingers, the water in his bottle splashed out to drench Hux's neck and back. The general gave a sharp hiss, lurching forward a step before turning back around and swatting the bottle from Ren's hands.

“You insolent--”

Ren merely laughed and refilled the bottle once more, attaching it to his belt directly behind his lightsabre. Pulling his helmet back over his head, he gave Hux a small shove and started to walk away from the ship and back out into the sun. He didn't turn toward the mines but walked away from the Troopers as though to leave the area entirely.

“Ren!” Hux barked whilst moving uncomfortably in his soaked uniform. “Where are you going?”

“Away from _you_ , that's for certain.” Ren trudged off to the left of the dunes, feet kicking across a ridge of exposed volcanic rock as he wandered into the distance. Shaking his head, General Hux turned back to the Troopers below him, arms folded and foot tapping into the loose sand. How he _hated_ this planet.

* * *

 

Lying behind a partial dune that covered half of a rocky ledge, you and Anna had set up two sniper's blasters. You plopped onto the sand, letting it heat your stomach as a tan cloak reflected the sun from your shoulders and let you blend in with the sand. Anna sat cross legged to your side, her cloak's hood pulled over her head to keep from sun burning to a crisp. Both of you peered through your blasters' eye pieces, watching as the Troopers moved about.

“They look like they're ready to have heat stroke,” you commented as they dragged metal scraps from the mine. “I can't imagine wearing black _and_ that armour in this.”

“Idiots, the lot of 'em,” Anna replied. “Especially the two in black and grey.”

“The one in grey is mine, by the way.” You had been keeping an eye on him from the moment that you had arrived on Abafar. The red headed general—General Hux—was _your_ kill, and you'd be damned if you let Anna take him out.

She merely shrugged her shoulders and kept her eyes on the Troopers. “I'm your back up. Stop worryin'.” Anna had been watching the Troopers for two hours now, making sure that none of them started walking near your hideout. Meanwhile, you watched as the man in black started to walk away from the ship and Troopers all together, wandering far away along a rocky ledge. He took his time as though exploring for the hell of it. _Must be bored_ , you thought as you watched him slip out of sight behind a dune. Your focus went back to the general, watching as he wiped sweat from his forehead, readjusted his cap over his bright, red hair. He was such a stern man—so serious and dignified. He was the type of person that you wanted to punch in the face to wipe the smug expression from his full lips.

“He looks like the kind of guy I would have beat up as a kid,” you laughed, eye still pressed against the lens of the blaster so that you could see far, far into the distance. If he would only move out of that shade and clear from the ship, you could fire.

Anna clucked her tongue at you. “As a kid? Honey, you'd beat the shit out of him _now_ if he was in front of ya. Look at him. Scrawny ass, pretty boy. Probably wouldn't last ten seconds in a fight. How in all the hells did _he_ get to be the highest general in the First Order?”

You shrugged, once against wincing at your left shoulder. You really should have known better than to move it by this point. “Probably nepotism and lots of money.”

“Probably.” Anna leaned away from her blaster and stretched her arms forward, cracking her neck with a sigh. “Ya need anythin' from the cruiser? I'm gonna grab some water in a minute here.”

“My canteen would be much appreciated.” Your mouth was so incredibly dry even though you had been drinking twice the amount of water as usual. All of the moisture had been pulled from your skin, leaving your lips cracked and nails brittle.

Anna nodded and slid on her bottom down the dune of sand until she was low enough in a valley to stand up. The cruiser wasn't parked all that far away—perhaps an eighth of a mile, but who was really counting? It was sheltered by another rocky ledge, and a tent had been set up beneath the rocks for both of you to rest in at night. So far, you had been here for three days, and only today had you first seen the general.

You spied closer upon General Hux, watching as he began to pace. His fingers were drumming against the comm at his belt, and he rocked on his heels for a moment. Then he was back to pacing and started to move forward from the ship, the light catching against his pale skin and patent leather boots. You could feel your finger twitch against the blaster's trigger as you aligned a target upon the centre of his face. If only he would stop pacing, you could fire. It would be preferable to have Anna beside you as back up, but this was possibly your only chance.

You took one glance away to see Anna, still rummaging through some equipment and bottles at the ship, her back turned to you. Looking back through the eye-piece, you took in a deep breath. Finally, he had stopped moving. His comm was up to his face, lips moving quickly as he spoke into it. A tiny, red laser shined out of the blaster, too dim to be seen with the naked eye but sending in a series of beeps through the mechanical workings of the blaster as it confirmed that a target was in range.

“Excellent,” you hummed. Taking in another deep breath, you felt the knuckle of your index finger curve around the trigger. Pulling. Pulling. Pulling.

Stop.

You blinked twice, glancing to your finger that was so close to fully pulling the trigger to fire, but your finger was stuck in place. Locked at the joint. Completely unwilling to follow your brain's orders that it should shoot. You tried to move your finger away from the trigger, but that wasn't working either. Your entire hand was frozen in place as though made of stone, and a rumbling seemed to roll through your veins, from your right hand into your arm, through your shoulders and neck, down your spine and into your legs. Within seconds, your entire body was stuck in place, completely out of your control as it remained in agonising, ridged place.

_What's happening to me?_

You tried to move your lips, tried to yell out to Anna, but not a single sound escaped your lips. The only thing that you could control was your breathing and your eyes, which searched wildly for the culprit. Had you been poisoned? Had you breathed in a strange, paralysis-causing chemical? Was this psychosomatic? What in he bloody hell was happening to your body to freeze it in place just as you were about to kill your target?!

You heard footsteps in the sand behind you, and if you could have sighed, you would have. Thank the stars, Anna must be coming back. She would know what to do. She could slap you back into working order if need be. But the footsteps didn't seem right. They were slow, circling behind you like an animal watching its prey. They travelled along your right side, and you could see large, black boots and the swaying of back robes.

Those weren't Anna's boots. Those weren't Anna's clothes.

You looked up at the large man in front of you, his masked face peering down.

_Shit._

“Yes, that would be correct.” His voice was distorted, mechanical. He crouched down, his fingers running along the blaster in front of you, and with a motion of his hand, the entire blaster crumpled upon itself in a twisted tangle of metal and sparks. You blinked back tears as the sparks stung at your face, leaving tiny burns in their wake.

 _Who are you?_ You had never been informed about this man in black. Not a single report from Raph had mentioned him, and it had been a complete surprise to see him beside the general an hour earlier. _What are you doing?_

He knocked the twisted blaster aside, and his helmeted head motioned toward the sky as the roar of an engine passed over head. “It would seem that your friend has left.”

The cruiser that you and Anna had taken from Raph's ship was hovering for just a moment—just long enough for you to see Anna cringe and mouth “sorry”, as though that would help your situation. And then all at once, the cruiser soared past at top speed, the sand billowing behind.

_That... BITCH._

The man in black chuckled, clearly hearing your every thought.

_I WILL FUCKING END HER._

“I'm sure,” he mused, lifting your chin with a gloved finger.

You were seething mad as you watched the cruiser fade into the bright distance. It shouldn't have surprised you that she would leave; Raph had always lamented that there was nothing worse than someone who would sacrifice themselves to save another person. Everyone was replaceable, but why waste two lives when only one would suffice? Still, you were fuming with rage that she would so quickly leave you.

You tore your gaze from the sky and back to the masked man, his finger moving your face from side to side so that he could inspect you like an animal at the market.

“So... what is it that I've found?” He held his hand against your temples, and the rumbling returned with full force, rushing around your head. Thoughts and feelings and emotions were running wild, and a consciousness so unlike your own was seeping through blood and bone to lodge into your mind.

 _I've found an assassin_ , he answered himself from within your skull. _How very interesting. And you planned to kill the general?_

He was digging through your thoughts, sorting them as though it was the easiest task in the world. You could feel him inside of each neuron, making them fire all at once in complete sensory overload.

_GET OUT._

“No,” he replied aloud. “It's interesting, though... You fear me far less than you should.”

_Because so FUCKING help me, I'm_ _way more concerned about_ _drag_ _ging_ _Anna by the hair for having left me!_

The man in black laughed for a moment once more and tipped his head to the side. You certainly weren't _trying_ to be amusing, but he was getting a kick out of watching you grow angrier with each passing moment. He was still swimming through your mind, but it had slowed and become less painful.

“Interesting...”

And then his hand moved back ever so slightly from your face and formed a tight fist that brought everything crashing down into total darkness.

* * *

 

All of the heat from the sun-scorched sand of Abafar had been replaced by icy cold air and darkness. You could finally feel your body again and wiggled your fingers and toes. The paralysis was gone, replaced by a tingling numbness from the cold. Your shoulder was aching more than ever, and with your eyes still shut, you figured that you were back aboard Raph's ship, strapped to yet another torturous chair. You groaned, rolling your head from having been drooped against your chest. You had really fucked up now. Surely this was Raph's punishment for having not killed the general. Surely you were about to face a few weeks of pain before finally being blown through an airlock. Surely...

“Actually, you're on _my_ ship.”

There was that mechanical, distorted voice once again, and you suddenly remembered just what had happened before the man in black had knocked you unconscious without having even touched you.

You opened your eyes, taking a few seconds to focus. There he was. The man in a black, knight'stabard with the masked face beneath a tattered hood and cowl.

“Who _are_ you?” you asked, eyebrows narrowing in confusion.

He walked forward, tall and menacing as his helmet neared your face.  
“Me?” Humour touched upon his voice as he answered you. “I would happen to be Kylo Ren.”


	4. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awaking in Kylo Ren's torture chamber was not your idea of a mission gone well, but that's where you find yourself after having been captured on Abafar. General Hux would have you killed immediately and by his own hands. Kylo Ren would have you be his toy. Between them, you're sure that your fate will lead to death, but you're sure that they can't be any worse than Raph.

**Chapter Soundtrack:** [DOA (Foo Fighters)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5_eWPCB4p4&index=11&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZua5eEwIyZTfyaD9xW06qP&nohtml5=False)

* * *

 

“Yeah, that's nice, but I've never heard of you,” you answered after hearing the man in black's introduction. _Kylo Ren._ Who in the hell was _that_? Were you _supposed_ to know who he was?

Kylo Ren took a step back and slowly circled the chair that you were strapped to. Or rather, it was less of a chair and more of a platform that forced you to stand at an angle as your neck and limbs were held firmly with metal restraints. Dried blood was crusted to the metal from whoever had last had the misfortune of being here, and you swallowed hard, feeling your heart start to beat faster.

“Never? Well, I should more formally introduce myself--”

A sharp voice came from behind you, interrupting the introduction in a posh accent. “Ren, are you going to toy with her or get this over with?”

General Hux walked into your vision, his arms folded over his chest and a wicked scowl upon his face. He shot daggers at you with his light eyes—eyes that reminded you of Raph's in the way that they could convey such cold fury. You squinted, trying to see what colour they were. _Sea glass_. A mix of blue and green.

“You're the general I was supposed to kill,” you whispered under your breath, but it didn't go unnoticed by Hux as he dashed forward, smacking you hard against the side of your face. The sting was immediate as your head whipped back against metal, and you could taste the first drops of blood on your tongue. So this was how it would begin.

“The only one who will be killed is you,” he replied, keeping his voice as collected as possible. If it had been up to him, he would have had Ren kill you right then and there, but apparently, he was not the one to make that decision.

Kylo Ren stepped forward, slipping between you and General Hux. His head was cocked to the side again, and he reached forward to move your head forward and let his fingers trail along the bright red mark that had formed from Hux's hand. He was gentle. _Terrifyingly_ gentle. It made no sense.

“You're not just toying with me,” you mused after spitting out a mouthful of blood. “You're playing with the both of us.” Your eyes motioned to General Hux and then back to Kylo Ren. You could see through him—see that this wasn't just about torturing some information out of you. This was all a game to the knight in black.

Once again, a low, mechanical chuckle broke from Ren's helmet. “How right you are.”

Hux huffed, exasperated and losing patience. “Kill her already, Ren.”

“Patience, General.”

“I'll teach you about patience, later.” Hux shoved him aside and grabbed your jaw, holding on tight as he glared into your eyes. “I don't particularly appreciate being caught in an assassin's target. Who sent you?”

You shrugged your jaw from his grasp, but he reached for your hair, grabbing a handful so that he could bash your head back against the chair. Stars floated across your vision, followed by a dull, throbbing pain at the base of your skull. Hadn't Raph just done the same thing a few days before? And yet, this general was far less intimidating, even if he was committing the same acts. He was a child in comparison to Raph.

“What the hell?” you moaned, blinking back the white stars on your periphery. He was gritting his teeth, looking ready to spit venom, and you couldn't help but laugh at his anger. You hadn't seen someone look so pissed off in years. You were fairly sure you had been captured by three year old bullies rather than actual men.

“I'll kill you myself.” Hux raised his other hand, ready to position it beneath your throat, but Kylo Ren held onto Hux's wrist. The general's eyes narrowed at Ren, and he tore from his grasp and unsnapped a small blaster from his belt, holding it forward so that the barrel was aimed between both of your eyes.

Ren held his own hand forward, knocking the blaster from the general's hand as though by magic, and the blaster clattered to the floor. “Step outside,” Ren demanded, his voice no longer coming through in waves of amusement. This time, he truly meant it. “You can watch through the vidscreen.”

General Hux stood for a moment, glancing back and forth from Ren to you and balling his hands into fists. His pale face was flushed with anger, and some of that pristine, red hair had fallen forward onto his forehead. If he had been a viper, he would have attacked in that moment and sunk his teeth into your neck. He would have watched the venom flow through your bloodstream and stop your heart. He would have sat with one leg crossed over the other, a cup of tea at his lips as he watched you die. But instead, he turned around with a huff and exited the room.

You laughed again, eyes meeting with a camera at the upper corner of the room. Hopefully his infuriation would only continue at seeing you through the vidscreen. The pretty boy deserved the pain.

“Now, that's better,” Ren said. He meandered over to you once again and lifted his hand to the side of your head so that his fingertips were just barely touching against your hair.

“What are you planning to do to me?” you asked while feeling that strange and, quite frankly, _painful_ sensation rush back through your head. He was in there, searching around for specific thoughts and following the pathways of your mind. Memories were pulled carefully and dashed across your vision. Deaths you had committed, putting together a sniper's blaster, breaking a man's fingers, running as fast as you could away from a death gang—both of you saw each memory.

You could feel the blood rushing around your head, pooling and draining unnaturally as he played with the flow. Vision blacking in and out, you could feel as he played with your levels of consciousness. He was going to cause a damned aneurysm if he wasn't careful, but his control was evident. He knew _exactly_ how to control the blood flow. No doubt, he had done this countless times before.

After what felt like an hour but couldn't have been more than a minute, Kylo Ren stopped, and you pulled in a gasp as you caught your breath. As much as you were exhausted and in pain and confused, the entire situation was still somewhat... _amusing_. This whole ordeal of torture and power games was ridiculous, and you found yourself smiling. Your lips were curling even through the pain, and Kylo Ren watched your every reaction.

“Tell me...” he said, still watching. “Why did you attempt to assassinate General Hux?”

You were fairly certain that Kylo Ren already knew the answer—knew that you had been ordered to do so, but you answered him anyway.

“I was sent by Raph Niehaus,” you explained between panting breaths. “Leader of assassins... _First and_ \--”

“ _Final armament_ , yes,” Kylo Ren answered. “You were the same who assassinated Captains Delta and Mitchel last week, were you not?”

“Yes, one in the same.” You smiled again, allowing yourself to feel accomplished in these last hours of your life. It's not like you would have any _other_ time to gloat about your kills.

Kylo Ren nodded, pacing slightly in the room as you watched him. “Why is this _Raph_ focusing upon the First Order?”

“Ha, I'm not given that kind of information. He gives me orders, and I follow them. It's that or die. I don't ask questions whose answers I don't need to know.”

“I find it interesting that you are so willing to divulge this information. I searched through your mind; I know how you feel about him. He is your _master_ , your _owner_. Do you not owe him your allegiance?”

You shrugged, feeling your left shoulder try to dislocate again. Ren must have noticed your wince and increasing heart rate, because you felt the rumbling grasp of control move into your left shoulder and stabilise the ligaments, steadying the joint in place. For a moment, you were confused. Was he trying to _heal_ you? Trying to ease the pain? Trying so hard to get answers that he would--

_POP!_

“Shit!” Shit, nope! That was _not_ his intention! Your body jerked forward violently, and the shoulder dislocated fully. In spite of yourself, you yelled out at the pain, feeling your heart spike in its beating and vomit lodge in your throat. Holy _fuck_ that hurt! But through all of the nausea, your yell had turned to laughter. Full hearted and boisterous, you were laughing like a mad woman. It was just the same shit all over again. If it wasn't Kylo Ren, then it was Raph, so why bother caring any more?

“I'm dead no matter what,” you cackled. “So who gives a shit if you know why I tried to kill your general or what Raph's up to? This is all gonna be over soon.”

You laughed even as Kylo Ren shoved you back against the chair, but he was equally as amused at seeing you laugh through your pain. “Why laugh?”

“I've been through worse,” you recalled.

“I take that as a challenge.”

“Go ahead. Nothing Raph hasn't done to me before.”

He rather doubted that. Kylo Ren crouched down, once again cocking his head to the side as he examined you. His curiosity was getting the best of him. His hands were relaxed, forearms resting on his knees. Even though you couldn't see his face, his body language gave away so much. He was entertained by your resilience. This wasn't how his game was supposed to go, but he didn't mind at all. “Tell me more about him.”

You rolled your eyes. There was so much you could say. You could tell him about how Raph had bought you from a market when you were thirteen years old for the price of a cheap meal. You could tell him about how Raph had pushed you through literal fire and ice, watching you burn either way. You could tell him about the times he had starved you, trapped you, cut you, beat you. You could tell him about all of the people you had seen get shoved into air locks only to be released into the vacuum of space. How you had seen Raph slit the throats of people who looked at him wrong. How he could look at a person in a way that told them they would soon be dead, and they would simply accept it because they knew what he was capable of.

“He's an assassin leading an entire ship of _other_ assassins. I don't know what he has against the First Order and the Republic alike, but he has a vendetta against them. Hell, he has a vendetta against pretty much _everyone_. The man is unstable and cold and meticulous and no one in this galaxy is as dangerous--”

Kylo interrupted, “Tell me why you are so quick to talk about him. Where do your loyalties lie?”

You spat at the word 'loyalties' and tasted the blood in your mouth from Kylo having shoved you back into the chair with that alarming force. “I've been a slave my entire life. I'm loyal to whoever owns me. I was loyal to Raph, but he doesn't own me right now.”

This seemed to pique his interest. “And who _does_ own you?”

You thought for a moment, biting at your lower lip. “ _You_ , I suppose.”

Obviously, this was the correct answer, because Kylo stood up and started to head for the door with a certain pep to his step.

“Wait!” you called. “When are you gonna kill me?”

He turned around, hand lingering by the door's keypad.

You continued. “Because if you don't, then Raph will. And I'd at least like to know what to expect.” And to be honest, you would prefer to have the First Order kill you rather than Raph. It would most likely be less painful that way.

Kylo Ren didn't answer, but you could hear the slightest laugh come from beneath his helmet and translate into a distorted snicker. He opened the door without a word, and left you in the darkness to think over what had just happened.

So, _apparently_ , you weren't going to be killed _just_ yet. Or so it would seem as two Troopers suddenly came into the room and began to unlatch the metal restraints that were around your wrists and ankles and neck. They dragged you away from the chair and shoved a blaster against your back as they led you out of the room.

“Where are we goi--”

“Silence!” one of them demanded, pushing the blaster against your vertebrae.

They led you down a few dark hallways that had been cut into layers of rock and reinforced with metal and black marble. Coloured lights glowed from the cut-outs in the metal and illuminated catwalks and perpendicular walkways. You were already miserably lost, but what did it matter? Why bother learning where you were actually going at this rate?

The Troopers kept you walking until you reached a narrow hallway full of holding cells, and they shoved you unceremoniously into a small room, slamming the door behind you so that you were encompassed by complete darkness.

Your right hand leapt toward the cinder block wall, searching for any switch to a light, and you eventually fumbled upon it. Flicking the switch, a small bulb lighted the room with a dim, yellowed glow that flickered in and out. The holding cell was kept simple. It contained a cot with tattered, greying blankets and a pillow—a luxury to which you hadn't had access in over a decade. You crossed to the cot, sitting cross legged upon it and pulling the pillow into your lap as you examined the rest of the room.

Sink and toilet. Small table with a chair. Open shelf containing a few personal care items. A warped mirror that was most likely made of polished metal instead of glass so that no one could break it apart and use the shards for weapons.

You pulled in a deep breath, your lips tugging into a stupid smile. Here you were trapped by the First Order and being threatened with a soon approaching death, and yet you were in a room three times the size of your closet on Raph's ship and with a pillow. A _Pillow_! What a treat!

You lied back on the cot, positioning the pillow beneath your shoulder that throbbed from the torn ligaments. You wondered for a moment how things would all end. How would Kylo Ren or General Hux kill you? Would it be fast? Slow? Torturous? By use of a trial and all of the legalities that came with it? You had no idea, but you were at least glad that it wouldn't be Raph to kill you. You already knew what Raph would do. It wouldn't just be the air lock. He would toy with you and torture you first over a series of weeks. Maybe months. He would drag it out until you would beg for the release of death. There would be no laughter like the pitiful “torture” of Kylo Ren. The First Order didn't know the meaning of true pain. They could never torture you to the same extent as Raph—could never be as fucked up.

Slowly, you drifted off to sleep with your arm held tight against your torso. You were in pain, but stars, you couldn't even make yourself really care. It would all be over soon, and you would be long gone in the grand scheme of things. Non-existence was coming, and you were as ready as you would ever be.

The one thought that played through your mind as you drifted off was _fuck them_. Fuck all of the men in your life who had placed you in these situations. Fuck Anna for just leaving you even though you were fairly certain that you would have done the same to her. Fuck all of them. Fuck Anna. Fuck Kylo Ren. Fuck General Hux. And most of all, fuck Raph Niehaus.


	5. A New Allegiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange things happen aboard the Finalizer as your fate is decided by Kylo Ren.

**Chapter Soundtrack:** [Gives You Hell (All American Rejects)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6APxbBYnoo&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZua5eEwIyZTfyaD9xW06qP&index=109)

* * *

 

General Hux's gloved hand was nearly breaking the vidscreen as he watched Kylo Ren interrogate that damned assassin. He peered at the screen, becoming angrier with each laugh that came from your lips. And just as infuriating was Ren's amusement. Hell, the man was  _still_ laughing after he exited the interrogation room and meandered to the attached conference room where Hux had been watching.

“She puts on quite the show,” Ren mused, crossing over to the vidscreen to see at what angle Hux had had to watch.

“Do you honestly believe that I would care about your childish antics when you are  _toying_ with the woman who would have me killed?”

Kylo Ren shrugged and walked in slow circles around the room. “You missed the point of that conversation as you stood here fuming, didn't you?”

“Don't belittle me, Ren.”

“She's allegiant to an  _owner_ ,” Ren explained, venturing too far into Hux's personal space. The general stood his ground with arms crossed but listened as Kylo continued. “She does what she's told by the person she deems to have authority, and as it stands, that person happens to be  _me_ .”

“Why, because you caught her?”

“Yes.”

“You're being ridiculous.”

Kylo Ren swung an arm before Hux, trapping him against the slate metal wall. “You know as well as I that  _no one_ has ever acted like that during an interrogation. No one has ever  _laughed_ at me as I threatened them with death.”

“Perhaps she's insane.”

“No. See, Hux, you have no ability to understand  _resilience_ . She didn't laugh because she had gone mad. No, it was much more than that—something far more frightening for someone as small minded as yourself to understand. She simply  _doesn't care_ and yet hasn't been truly broken. She's a force to be reckoned with because she can't even be bothered to show fear. And that makes her more than lethal when combined with the training of an assassin. I dug through her mind enough to know.”

Hux broke free of Kylo Ren's entrapment and huffed across the room. “All that you have convinced me of is that she is as much trouble as  _you_ , and having  _one_ of you aboard is already too much to handle. Her skills don't interest me.”

“But they interest  _me_ ,” Ren snapped. “I saw her memories—saw how she can kill a man with the slightest of effort. She's well trained. Efficient. You of all people should respect that—respect a good sniper when you see one.”

Hux scoffed. “What is it that you are truly getting at Ren? Do you want to keep her alive long enough to learn her secrets? Do you want to play with her some more? A little game of cat and mouse? Even if I was to humour that notion, how do you expect to trust a single word from her mouth?”

“I'm a rather good judge of character.” Being able to pick apart people's minds for the most honest of information tended to have that effect. Ren was smirking beneath his helmet, already anticipating Hux's response at what he would hear next. “I think I'll keep her.”

“ _What_ ?” Hux hissed. He shoved past Kylo Ren and left the room with Kylo walking directly behind him. “I can't believe you would even  _think_ of keeping her alive after what she attempted! You absolute imbecile! Do you have any idea of how  _reckless_ that would be?”

“Perhaps I  _do_ , but you've acted rather recklessly lately, as well.”

Hux groaned as he stepped into the bridge of the  _Finalizer_ , trying to shake Ren off of his heels. “If this is about reassigning your knights to--”

“It  _is_ ,” Ren hissed. All humour had left his voice, and his anger had started to fume. “You forget that I don't answer to you,  _General_ . Nor should my knights, and yet you would have the  _audacity_ to send them on a private mission. They aren't yours for the taking.”

“Snoke approved of my plans,” Hux said as a way to conclude the conversation. He pushed past Kylo Ren, purposefully bumping into the man's arm.

Ren stood for a moment, staring straight forward as his hands turned to fists. They flexed out as he exhaled. His fingers itched to grab hold of that sabre at his belt and swing against anything that stood in his way, but he fought it. He was  _always_ fighting that rage. Taking a small step forward, he leaned his hands against the row of controls and radar that ran along the triangular viewports of the bridge.

That rat of a general had been overstepping every boundary for months. At first, he had been able to ignore Hux's actions. He ignored the change in military structure; ignored the newly developed Starkiller Base that was still two years from completion; ignored the snide remarks and power grabs. But as soon as he had heard of Hux using  _his_ knights for a First Order mission in another system, that had been the last straw. Kylo Ren had threatened to kill him, had wrapped his fingers around the general's neck for a few seconds before dropping him to his feet. He could have so easily crushed his windpipe, but he had controlled himself. Even in that rage-fuelled action, Ren knew that his revenge would be had at some point. It had all been a matter of when.

Now he knew that the time had come.

If Hux believed that he could meddle in the affairs of the Knights of Ren, then Kylo Ren would meddle in  _Hux's_ affairs. And more pointedly, he would spite Hux's every action if need be—anything to teach the man a lesson that he wouldn't soon forget.

Kylo Ren inhaled deeply, remembering the feeling of your thoughts. They were so tangible; it was as though he had physically reached inside of your brain to feel the minute electricity and receptors that kept you alive. He had seen enough to make a decision then and there. A small grin tugged at his lips.

_Fuck General Hux._

* * *

 

“I have an actual pillow,” you whispered whilst staring up at the dark ceiling. Of all the damned things to be focused on, it was the act of being given a  _real_ pillow that shocked you. The torture? A common, everyday experience. Being locked in a cell? More or less the norm. But receiving a pillow? Now,  _that_ blew your mind.

You had shoved the pillow beneath your neck and left shoulder, marvelling at how much of a difference it made to your general comfort. The thing with dislocations was that it wasn't just a constant pain in one area, but instead, the pain spread from the joint to trail down ligaments and nerves. Even if the trauma had been to the ball and socket and a few surrounding ligaments and muscles, there were still sharp stabs of pain that went all of the way to your wrist and into your fingers and then shot up through your spine until a throb rested at the base of your skull. It was an all-encompassing thing. Hard to ignore.

By this point, you had been locked in a First Order holding cell for two days without any word as to your fate. The only contact with the world outside the cinder block walls was with Troopers who would stop by to bring you meals. If it hadn't been for them shoving a tray of bread and slightly questionable soup through a hatch on your door, then you would have had no idea of how long you had been there with nothing to do and no one with whom to speak. You simply kept yourself occupied by talking to yourself, musing over whatever your short future held for you, and then listening to the way your voice echoed in the box-like cell whenever you started humming or singing. The sound was enormous as it amplified your voice and made it sound a lot better than it truly was. And apparently the sound was enough to warrant a few warning bangs against your metal door from the Troopers who didn't appreciate your concert.

You were still lying back on the cot when another bang came on the door and rattled through the cell. Your eyes had been closed, and you hadn't been singing in a little while, so the unexpected noise was enough to startle you from the cot and have you land on your feet at the ready. Arms in front of you and ready to strike, you looked like a fighter in the ring and had to remind yourself to settle back down. It was all right to be at the ready—you had been trained to always be ready to defend yourself—but now was definitely not the time to be on the offensive when you were injured and weaponless.

“Please sit on your cot,” a female voice called through a comm beside the door. Your eyebrows pulled together as you stared daggers at the door, but you did as you were commanded and plopped down on your bottom.

The door made a few mechanical clicks and opened to reveal two Troopers and a small woman behind them holding a metal case. She walked past the Troopers as they held their blasters at the ready, and she went to your sink to wash her hands up to the elbows as though this was a perfectly normal thing to do. Unlike the Troopers or uniformed military personnel, she was dressed in civilian's clothes—a long, grey dress and white lab coat. A stethoscope rested around her neck, which was hidden beneath a black scarf that covered from her golden brown forehead to her shoulders.

“Who are you?” you asked as she crossed the room and sat beside you on the cot.

She raised a dark eyebrow whilst opening her metal case, which turned out to be a medkit. “Doctor Amena Sayeed,” she answered after a few moments. “Here to look at an injured shoulder, unless you would rather suffer through a few months of healing on your own.”

You weren't really going to argue with receiving medical care, though it struck you as odd. “Why help me if I'm just going to be killed by you guys, anyway?”

Amena let out a tiny exhale of a laugh and started to pull at the strap of your tank top to get a better look at your shoulder. She rolled a hand-held instrument over your skin, watching the readings appear on a screen. “Ren doesn't like to keep his prisoners informed, does he?” she said more to herself than you.

“Apparently not,” you sighed as Amena pressed against your shoulder with gloved hands. The joint rolled forward ever so slightly as she moved your arm to the side. Then she rolled the joint back into place, holding your arm steady.

“How long have you been dislocating this joint?” she asked whilst rummaging for another device in her medkit.

You thought back to when Raph had first dislocated it during a “training” exercise, which was much more a power play than anything else. “Something like two weeks ago; I'm not sure.”

“And how many times has it dislocated since?”

“Ha, I don't even know. Ten? Fifteen times? I wasn't keeping count.”

Amena rolled her eyes. “No wonder the ligaments are so stretched. You also tore through the middle and inferior glenohumeral ligaments. It's a wonder you have movement in your left arm at all.” She clucked her tongue and found the device that she had been searching for.

A slightly larger device, the instrument looked to have an electric pulse at its end like a tazer, and you backed up as it whirred to life with a series of sparks.

“What are you going to do with that?” you asked, feeling more fear at this moment than you ever had while being tortured by Kylo Ren.

Amena narrowed her eyes at you and clicked through a few settings on the device. “It's going to bind your ligaments and help them from hyper-extending during healing. But by all means, I'll put it away and allow you to sublux and dislocate over and again.” She was being facetious and didn't wait for you to come up with a smart mouthed answer before setting the electrical pulse against your skin.

A series of bright blue, snapping pops of electricity burst from two metal nibs, and you wrinkled your face in displeasure as it shocked through the skin and deep into the tissue of your shoulder. The muscles surrounding the joint flexed in a series of spasms that vibrated up into your neck and then down to your elbow as Amena moved the device lower. She wrapped the electronic pulse to the back of your shoulder, sending more spasms down your spine. Biting down on your lower lip, you waited for the loud snaps to stop after a few minutes. By this point, your entire shoulder and arm were numb, so you couldn't even feel when Amena started to press against the joint once more with her hands.

“Much better,” she mumbled, testing the range of motion from your arm. You watched as she moved your left arm forward and then to the side, but you still couldn't feel it. “That stitched the ligaments back together rather well.”

“Yeah, but am I going to get feeling back or...”  _Or just suffer with a wobbly left arm for the rest of my life?_

Amena let your arm fall back to your side and tugged the strap of your tank top back over your shoulder. “You should regain feeling in an hour or two, though I do warn that it's not entirely healed yet. The ligaments aren't nearly as stretched, and they're patched up, but if you don't give it time to heal, then my job here was meaningless.” She turned to the Troopers, pointing a gloved finger at both of them. “That statement goes for the both of you, as well. Don't injure her arm, or you'll have hell to pay from me.”

That didn't seem like much of a threat coming from a tiny, little woman like Amena, but both of the Troopers perked up, their posture straightening and heads nodding in affirmation. Whatever power it was that Amena had, they seemed to take it very seriously.

You reached with your right hand to touch the numb skin of your shoulder, watching as your fingers moved down your arm without any feeling. What a strange feeling it was to not be in pain. Glancing up to Amena, you gave a wane smile.

“Thanks,” you mentioned, now poking along a healed ligament. Amena gave a nod as she once again washed her hands in your sink. “No one's ever given me medical attention before, to be honest.”

Amena seemed to give you an incredulous look, an eyebrow raising in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, usually I just suffer through whatever injury I get and deal with it on my own.”

“And what kind of injuries have you sustained?” Amena asked as she lifted a sling from the medkit and adjusted the strap.

You let her fit the sling around your neck to hold your left arm in place. “You name it, I've had it,” you answered. Broken bones, sprains, dislocations, deep tissue bruising, stabbing, concussions. There wasn't much that  _hadn't_ happened to you over the years.

“But I mean it,” you said. “Thanks. I'm just... I'm not really used to someone using their hands to heal rather than harm, you know?”

Amena merely smiled at this, not knowing exactly what to say. She was used to patching people up immediately after injury rather than letting them wallow in their misery, and most of the Troopers and staff she attended to were usually less than kind after receiving her services. Pain tended to bring about that result. So receiving a bit of gratitude went a long way.

“You're welcome,” she replied after a minute. “And if you're injured again, don't let it wait. Medical staff is on board for a reason.”

You gave a quick nod. “By the way...” Amena was making her way out of the room but glanced over her shoulder. “Where exactly am I?”

Amena glanced at the Troopers, narrowing her eyes as though to tell them not to say a word, and then she turned back to you. “You're on board the  _Finalizer_ , a Star Destroyer used by the First Order. We're currently hovering above the Starkiller Base.”

That didn't really help you know where  _exactly_ you were, but at least it was an honest answer. With no other word, Amena left the cell with the Storm Troopers following behind her, and you were once again left to your own devices. This meant that there was once again not much else to do other than hum as you lied on your back, staring at the ceiling and letting your fingers walk along your still numb shoulder.

It struck you as being so strange that someone would be willing to heal you. Did this happen to normal people? People who weren't owned by another? Did most people just receive medical treatment automatically rather than having to take care of themselves with little knowledge and ability? Certainly this wasn't  _normal_ . You would have to bring the topic up with Kylo Ren if he ever actually informed you of what was happening. Honestly, you had anticipated being dead by this time. What was taking him so long?

You mused about this for a while, racking your brain for an answer, when the door opened again. No knock, no warning, it simply swung open to reveal none other than the black-clad Kylo Ren, his fingers tapping against the metal hilt of his lightsabre. You swung your legs to the floor, sitting up immediately with wide, alert eyes watching his every movement.

He was silent as he crossed into the cell, and you noticed that the Storm Troopers who had been guarding the door when Amena had entered were now nowhere to be seen. Apparently this would be a quiet affair.

“Hey,” you greeted. Your eyes glanced down to your shoulder which had started to regain feeling but not without a dull throb as it hung in the sling. “Thanks  for sending along help .”

He made no indication of having heard but leaned against the cinder block wall across from your cot, his arms folded over his chest. What a menacingly large man he was. You wondered what was behind that mask. What colour was his skin? Was it littered in scars? Youthful or old? Burnt or disfigured? You were starting to build an image in your mind of a hideous man, old and cruel in appearance; it didn't seem as though he was going to reveal what he looked like anyway—may as well make it up as you go.

Both of you were locked in a staring match. Or at least you assumed as much without actually being able to see his eyes. But you stared forward, matching his body language. If he could relax against the wall with arms folded, you could too. If he could be silent, well then, you'd try hard to keep your big mouth shut. Though you  _did_ happen to raise an eyebrow at him every now and then, hoping that it would break the silence.

It did.

His mechanical voice echoed through the cell after a minute or two of staring. “You're being kept alive.”

“Really?” you asked, dropping the act of copying his movements. The surprise had taken you off guard.

“Yes.”

You leaned forward on your cot, confused and wanting more information. “Why?”

Kylo Ren pushed himself from the wall and started to pace the cell, slowly moving from the open door to the opposing wall. “Am I correct that you will obey the orders of the person who  _'owns'_ you?”

“Yeah...?”

“And am I  _also_ correct that you no longer consider yourself to be owned by the assassin Raph Niehaus but by  _me_ ?”

You nodded. “I thought I'd already explained this.”

“I'm simply reaffirming,” he answered. “And I am giving you the pretence for what will be said next.”

You were all ears, listening intently as his pacing grew faster and voice slightly louder.

“You will obey me. You will do as I demand. You will not harm anyone in the First Order unless directly commanded to do so. You will follow my lead. My every order will be yours to fulfil. Does that sound reasonable?”

Once again, you nodded. “But,  _why_ ?” Honestly, the only reason that you could see for why Kylo Ren would want you to be kept alive would be to use you as bait. There had to be a  _reason_ . Something for him to gain. Was this about capturing Raph as punishment for having sent you to kill the general?

As you searched for an explanation, the rumbling hum met your ears once more, sinking through your skull and into your mind so that you could feel Kylo Ren's presence mixing with your own.

“What are you even doing?” you hissed, right hand clawing against your scalp as though that would relieve the burning pressure of his invasion. You could feel him lurking behind your eyes, twisting through neuronal pathways of hidden thoughts.

_Testing you,_ he replied within your head.

“Why?”

_You ask a lot of questions._

“Tell me something I  _don't_ know.”

_Fine_ . At once, he had slipped out of your mind, leaving so quickly that it left you slightly rattled—almost empty. You could hear your pulse in your ears as your hand drifted from your messy hair and down to your lap.

“Here is something that you  _don't_ know,” Ren answered, stepping closer so that he could lean over you like an imposing mountain. “You don't know of what I am capable, and you don't know what I will ask you to do whilst obeying me. Yet, you agreed to my terms without a second thought because you only sought information. So here. Here is your information. I'm keeping you alive for a purpose that is two-fold: one, because you have skills that I am willing to utilise. Your death would be a waste, considering what I know about your methods of killing.”

You smiled, flipping some of your hair over your shoulder. “I'm not half bad.”

Kylo Ren stood stalk still for a moment, most likely glaring at you before continuing his speech. “The second reason is... more personal.”

Your eyebrows narrowed.  _Personal?_ In what kind of way? For a moment, your stomach seemed to do a flip as you contemplated what that could mean and what kind of things Kylo Ren would want. Your mind wandered fast, and it wandered dangerously. All at once, Ren's hands were held up as though to stop the gears from turning.

“ _Nothing of that sort_ ,” he hissed. You breathed a sigh of relief and went back to listening. “I'm keeping you alive with the very specific purpose of spiting General Hux.”

Well, that wasn't really what you had expected. A small sputter of a laugh left your lips. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“HA!” You laughed with full force by this point, head back and mouth wide open as you held onto your stomach. You were being kept alive to purposefully piss off the man you had meant to kill. Of all the strange twists and turns,  _that_ was the reason you were still alive and kicking. What unbelievable luck? Not only were you being kept alive, but it would seem that you were not going to be given back to Raph, either. Strange. So incredibly strange, but damn if you were not beyond pleased.

“I see that you are  all right with this?” Ren asked as he folded his arms and crossed back to the other side of the cell.

“Shit, you really dislike him, don't you?”

Ren looked away, not answering. You took that as a confirmation of his loathing for the general. Apparently,  _everyone_ disliked the red-headed bastard.

You shrugged just your right shoulder, finally no longer laughing but grinning as you slowly shook your head. Indeed, you had been captured by children instead of actual men. “Okay, so I'm staying alive and going to be used as an assassin in the First Order  _just_ to piss off General Hux. Am I getting this right?”

“Yes,” Ren answered. “Do you resent these circumstances?”

“Hey, I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth. If you're willing to keep me alive  _and_ not hand me over to Raph, I really can't ask for much more.” 

Kylo Ren nodded and started moving toward the door, his hand lingering against the metal frame. “Then we have a deal. You will remain here on the  _Finalizer_ and do as I see fit.”

“Sounds fine,” you agreed. “Though... am I just going to be left in this cell while your general gets progressively more pissed at my existence or...?”

“That will be up to your behaviour and my decision.”

“So... that's code for  _'yes, you're going to hang out in this cell for a while'_ ?”

He paused for a moment. “More or less.”

You glanced around the cell, nodding your head as though to tell him that it wasn't the  _worst_ of situations. After all, it was still three times the size that you were used to, and you had your own toilet. There wasn't much else you could ask for. Except...

“Before you go...”

Ren had already stepped through the door but stopped, momentarily cringing about you  _still_ talking to him. He wasn't used to having to carry a conversation for this long and with someone who took him so...  _not_ seriously. “Yes?”

“I'm bored, and your guards are sick of me singing. Got a datapad I can play with?”

He glanced over his shoulder with a tiny flinch, not knowing what he had expected you to say, but this certainly wasn't it. He gave a little exhale, shaking his head in slight disbelief. “I'll see what I can do.”

“Oh, I'm sure you can do  _something_ .”

And with the slightest chuckle, he shut the door behind him, leaving you pretty damned sure you would be receiving a datapad the next time a meal was delivered. You fell back onto your cot with a snorting laugh, caught somewhere between absolute shock and disbelief and outright hilarity that this was all real.

“Ten points for  _me_ . Ten points for  _Kylo Ren_ . And no points for  _General Hux_ , may he rest in fucking  _pieces_ .”

* * *

 

**Glossary:**

_Glenohumeral Ligament:_ A series of three primary ligaments that stretch around the shoulder joint to hold it in place. Damage to these ligaments can lead to dislocation.

_Hyper-Extension:_ Over stretching of a ligament or tissue surrounding the joint can cause the joint to bend further than it should. A common hyper-extension is in the elbows, where you may see someone's elbow bend slightly in the wrong direction when flexed. Hyper-extension is not dangerous on its own but can sometimes be caused by an injury or genetic disorder.

_Subluxation:_ The partial dislocation of a joint.

* * *

 

**A/N:** You can read more about shoulder ligaments and joints by clicking  [ HERE ](https://www.shoulderdoc.co.uk/article/1179) . All information about the pain and movement of a dislocated joint comes from my own personal experiences with having Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, which you can learn more about by clicking  [ HERE ](http://www.edhs.info/#!symptoms/c1qvq) , visiting my personal blog's  [ EDS TAG ](http://houseoftombombadil.tumblr.com/tagged/eds-blogging) , or watching  [ THIS VIDEO ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pokHku7hCis) that I made last year for EDS Awareness Week. And here I thought that this fic wouldn't get medical. Hahaha. Also, I'd kill a man for access to Amena's mystery joint healing device. If only such a thing existed. Sigh.


	6. The First Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staying on Kylo Ren's private ship isn't quite freedom, but you'll take what you can get and make the best of it. And perhaps you'll manage to win over some knights in the process.

**Chapter soundtrack:** [ Take a Walk (Passion Pit)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZX6Q-Bj_xg&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZua5eEwIyZTfyaD9xW06qP&index=21)

* * *

 

“Hey, so I have a question.”

Kylo Ren had been in the middle of scraping a fine sanding block over a metal burr in the hilt of his lightsabre, and he tilted his helmeted head up to look at you. “Don't you always?”

“Yeah, so am I allowed to  _purposefully_ piss off General Hux when I see him?”

The two of you had been sitting in silence for the past half hour as Ren meticulously cared for his sabre. Once per day, he led you here—led you down the halls of the  _Finalizer_ until you reached a small room that only he and a few other generals and captains could access. There was nothing special about the  room :  t wo small tables, a few chairs, a viewport that happened to be looking out onto an empty stretch of tarmac covered in snow. It seemed like a lounge of sorts, though Kylo Ren was the only one whom you had seen utilise the space.

He picked at the burr near the crossguard of the sabre, slowly bending it back into place using the  _Force—_ which was a brand new concept that you were still trying to understand. The way he had explained it was that the Force was in all things and all life. It was an energy that could be controlled and manipulated by certain people in order to bring about fantastic  results . Also, it was apparently  _not_ the same thing as voodoo, and Kylo Ren did  _not_ appreciate you claiming as such.

Ren set the sabre down on the table along with the sanding block, and he laced his fingers together in front of him. “What is it that you have in mind?”

You shrugged your shoulders—both of them. For the first time in weeks, your left shoulder finally felt back to normal, though you wore the sling to keep Dr Amena from barking down your throat.

“I don't know,” you confessed. “But I know that one of these days I'm going to bump into him again, and it's always good to know how far I can press my luck.”

“At the moment, I would not recommend it,” he answered. “You're being kept on a tight leash.”

You already knew that. If you weren't locked in your prison cell, then you were being monitored by Kylo Ren and kept no further than an arm's length away. At one point, he had confessed to not actually knowing what to do with you; he was merely making this all up as he went along. But if that statement was meant to worry you, it hadn't worked. One of the most valuable lessons that you had learned from Raph as an assassin was the virtue of patience, and you would wait as long as it took for Ren to get his shit together.

Really, being a prisoner of Kylo Ren hadn't been bad. You had been given enough food, a new set of clothes,  _medical treatment_ . The cell was kept at a decent temperature rather than absolutely freezing or boiling like on Raph's ship. And aside from when Ren had interrogated you, he had not yet laid finger to you. Occasionally he crept into your mind, but after the third or fourth time, you had gotten used to it. It was his own way of making sure that you weren't plotting against him or hiding something, and the invasions had become less frequent as  he  learned that you were actually decently trustworthy.

Of course, that didn't stop General Hux from loathing that you were being kept alive. You hadn't seen him in person  except for that first encounter, but you had heard from Ren and Troopers alike just how insanely frustrated the man was.  He didn't trust you. Didn't trust Ren's decisions. Didn't trust that air still pulled into your lungs. And here you were being allowed out of your cell to shadow Kylo Ren rather than being strangled to death beneath Hux's pretty, gloved hands. He was furious.

And you thought it was hilarious.

Kylo Ren slid a gloved finger over the hilt of the lightsabre, seemingly satisfied with the maintenance. He clicked the sabre onto his belt and stood, motioning for you to follow him as he walked from the room. Instinctively, you made a right turn  at the door  which would eventually lead you back to your cell, but today, Kylo went to the left. You stopped in the doorway for just a moment, teeth biting at your lower lip as you glanced from the left side of the hallway and back to Ren. Frowning, you followed.

“Where are we going?”

“My ship.”

“Your private one?” You had seen it back on Abafar—the black ship with two wings held almost vertically in the air.

He nodded. “I'm to meet with my knights on Malastare tomorrow  evening .”

“And you're taking me  _why_ ?”

“Call it curiosity. I want to see how you react when not imprisoned in a cell or a controlled area.”

You shook your head, stepping in front of him so that he was forced to stop in the hallway and peer down at you. “You've already looked in my head. You know what I'm like—what my 'normal' is. So what is this really?”

Kylo Ren shoved past you, his pace picking up. Running behind to catch up, you tried to process how much of a risk this must be for him to remove you from the  _Finalizer._ Did the general know about this? Did Kylo Ren even have to obey the general in the first place? More and more, you got the feeling that Kylo Ren completely operated on his own as though the First Order was a cover up for his personal activities.

“Your  questioning  will get the best of you,” he mentioned whilst  entering the hangar. His ship was waiting ahead, and you shivered  from the sudden blast of cold  air  coming from the outside.  The all-black trousers and long-sleeved shirt that had been provided for you wasn't enough to block out freezing temperatures.

“ I was j ust wondering. Don't  mistake it as me being upset about leaving, though ,” you  said from behind him. You were patient, but that didn't cure you from still having been rather bored for the past several days. Stretching your legs and seeing some place new would do wonders for your overall well-being.

Kylo Ren marched his way up an entrance ramp that led to the interior of the ship, and you followed along once more, noticing the way the nearby Storm Troopers shifted uneasily on their feet at seeing you. They probably disapproved of your freedom as much as General Hux. That or they were nervous at being around Ren; you shouldn't make this  _all_ about you.

Upon entering the ship, Kylo Ren went straight to work with commanding some Troopers who were on board. Several of them were running a round to stock supplies, do last-minute maintenance, and prepare for piloting the ship. You plopped down in a plush leather seat to watch everyone move about. The pilot and co-pilot were both ready in the cockpit, and a few other Troopers were clambering on board to help with  wha t ever it was that needed done before leaving .

“I'm surprised,” you mentioned to Ren as he finally took a seat across from you and began scrolling through a datapad. “I would have thought that  _you_ would pilot the ship. If it's truly  _yours_ and all.”

He continued scrolling, paying you no attention, and you sighed whilst getting comfortable in the seat. You twisted and turned until your head was on the armrest and legs hanging off the other armrest to swing back and forth. This gave you a view of a tiny, circular viewport to the outside where the snow was whipping violently just outside of the hangar.  You watched as the ship glided smoothly from the hangar and out into an open tarmac before taking full flight through the snow-filled air. Blindingly bright and white, the snow quickly faded behind clouds and the fragments of atmosphere and then the total blackness of space.

Kylo Ren still paid attention only to his datapad and groaned when a series of beeps came through to  alert that a video comm was being sent through. You raised an eyebrow as Ren answered.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure--”

_“YOU LET HER OFF THE BASE?”_ General Hux was nearly roaring into the comm.  _“Ren, she was to be left in her cell--”_

“Unless being accompanied by  _me_ ,” Ren interrupted. “That was our agreement.”

You slipped from your seat and crossed to lean against Ren's chair, trying to get a view of the datapad's screen. Hux was there, his face contorted in anger as he caught sight of you. You gave a little wiggle of your fingers as a greeting and smiled.

“Nice to see you, General,” you hummed. 

Ren yanked the datapad away from your sight, shielding it with  his hand.

_“And you would let her be free of restraints? What next? Make her one of your knights?”_

“The thought  _had_ crossed my mind, though you know as well as I that she doesn't share the personal convictions necessary of being one of my knights.”

You craned your neck as they continued arguing, just trying to capture a glimpse once more of the scowl that was no doubt still upon Hux's face. Every time you thought of his anger, it just made you grin more. He was so easy to  upset.

Both of the men were still bitching about Ren's knights. Over the past few days, you had heard little snippets about the knights' existence, but this was the first time that you were hearing the drama first hand. Apparently the knights had been scattered on a mission directed by the general but without the consent of Kylo Ren, who happened to be the  _leader_ of the aforementioned knights. And this had, within reason, pissed Kylo Ren off at General Hux. And now the knights were finished with the mission, and one half was ready to be picked up on Malastare while the other half completed some training on another planet.

But whatever it was that the knights were up to wasn't really your concern. What was  _much more_ interesting from the conversation was watching the power dynamic between Hux and Ren. Both men seemed to think that  they themselves were the highest up in the First Order, but at least from  _your_ point of view, it appeared that they were about equal in power and authority. They didn't have the same responsibilities,  priorities, or positions, but both could more or less do whatever it was that they wanted. Yet neither one saw the other as having the same authority to do so. In the end, it appeared that Kylo Ren and General Hux were stuck in a perpetual game of masculine politics—always trying to outdo one another and never actually winning.

_“If she slits your throat in the night, it won't be my fault.”_

Ren let out a groan of disgust and shut off the datapad before chucking it across the ship's lounge so that it fell with a shattering crunch against the opposing wall.

“Well, that's one way to end a vid comm,” you commented whilst kicking some of the shattered pieces into a pile with the toe of your boot. One of the Troopers who had been stationed near the cockpit ran over to clean up the mess, and you gave them a wane smile. It must have sucked to be in charge of taking care of Ren's destruction.

Kylo Ren stood from his seat, pointing a gloved finger at you. “Do not disturb me,” he warned through the same mechanical distortion, and then he barged through a doorway leading to another level of the ship and was gone. Most likely,  he left to go punch at something or yell or whatever it  was that let out the steam after arguing with someone as intolerable as General Hux. And that was fine with you. In a matter of minutes, you had been left with the entire lounge of the ship to yourself and the few Troopers who now felt comfortable enough to venture to a seat.

“So, is that usual?” you asked one of the Troopers— _TN-0419_ —who  sat down in the newly vacated seat.

He removed his white helmet and slowly shook his head while watching the other Trooper clean up the last remains of the datapad. “Yes, ma'am.”

The Trooper who was cleaning chimed in. “Not quite. This is a very  _small_ example of his usual destruction.”

“True. Usually he uses his lightsabre, and...”

“You want to run if that's the case.”

You nodded your head, taking in the tips from the two Troopers. From how they made it seem, Kylo Ren was basically a giant man-baby who took out his frustration on inanimate machinery and control panels. Good to know. You would try to avoid getting any limbs caught up in that sabre of his.

The Troopers seemed much more jovial now that Ren had disappeared. They were young—just barely into adulthood and still in that stage of being completely uncomfortable with who they were as human beings. Even if they were brain-washed soldiers, they still went through the same developmental stages as everyone else, and you couldn't help but grin while listening to the two men talk. There was just something rather  _infantile_ to it all, and that was a comfort. They weren't serious.  _You_ certainly weren't serious. And your comfort aboard was only increasing.

TN-0419 brought you dinner after a while, and you poked at the mush of food with your finger whil st contemplating if it was actually edible. It was obvious that the tray had been full of rehydrated food, just piled on top of each other without any consideration for whether certain flavours should  _ever_ touch. You ate it anyway, grimacing all the while. Honestly, you felt bad complaining about the horrid taste and mushy texture when at least you were being given  _enough_ food. That was a welcome change. But your mind drifted to Anna's cooking—how she managed to turn old boxes of expired food into something that was still pretty damn good. It was something you had always appreciated of her. She was naturally resourceful in a way that most people had to be taught, and she may not have ever been able to give you as much food as you needed, but at least she made sure that the few morsels you consumed tasted good.

And so when breakfast and lunch the next day were the same rehydrated crap that everyone else on board just tolerated, you started to get a little put off.

“Where's the kitchen?” you asked  TN-0419 during the afternoon. The ship was still sailing through space, though you had overheard the pilot saying that Malastare was only another hour or so away.

He looked at you as though you were possibly insane and shifted uneasily on his feet. “Lord Ren wanted you to stay in the lounge.”

“Well, Lord Ren hasn't been around since we first left the  _Finalizer_ , and I'm pretty sure he's not going to know nor give a shit if I'm in the kitchen making some  _actually edible_ food.”

“It  _is_ pretty awful, isn't it?”

“No shit. Now where's the kitchen?”

Cringing, the Trooper led you down a narrow hallway and a short flight of steps to take you to the underbelly of the ship. Here, you could see a corridor leading to a maintenance room and galley kitchen that smelled of mould and burnt food.  TN-0419 leaned against the open doorway as you started to inspect the space. A few freezers and refrigerators ran along the lefthand side, and the right of the galley had scant counter space with a stove top and sink. Everything was crusted over in old food, and trays had been stacked in the sink so high that the water nozzle couldn't be turned on without water splashing across the entire kitchen. You scratched your nail over some burnt food that had been growing mould on the stovetop and groaned.

“Have you guys  _ever_ cleaned this?” you asked whilst grabbing a rag from under the sink and looking for whatever harsh chemicals you could find.

The Trooper shrugged. “ _I_ haven't.”

“Obviously,” you mumbled. Standing up from the sink, you yanked the sling from your left arm and tossed it over to  TN-0419 , who caught it like a garter at a wedding. “You hold that for me.”

He looked more confused by the second but nodded, stuffing the sling into his belt for safe-keeping. And then rolling your sleeves above your elbows, you set off to work. It was a hell of a job before you, but you had always been rather good at cleaning—even if you absolutely despised the task. As you slowly got the kitchen into working order, you were  continuously amazed by just how disgusting the place was. How did men—no, sorry,  _boys—_ manage to get an area  _this_ filthy? It was somewhat beyond you. Raph would have never allowed for this kind of filth, but then again, Raph also threatened to kill whoever didn't do chores. A ripple of fear rolled up your spine at the thought. Even without Raph breathing down your neck, you still felt the anxiety, and these chores were bringing that all back to you as though you had never left his ship at all.

It took an hour to clean the old food from the stove and counters and sink, by which time,  TN-0419 was sitting in the doorway with his fingers drumming against the helmet in his lap and mouth running a mile a minute. He had been telling you about past missions, the First Order's military structure, how terrifying Kylo Ren could be when in a rage. All valuable information.

You meandered over to the freezer and refrigerator to find stack upon stack of dehydrated, freezer-burnt food. So  _that_ was what you had  been eating for the past three meals? No wonder it was so disgusting. Rummaging through the fridge, you started to find  _actual_ food. You pulled out a bag of vegetables and gave the Trooper the dumbest looking face you could muster.

“You mean to tell me that there has been  _fresh food_ on this ship the entire time, and we were all still eating that crap?” You held up the bag in annoyance as he shrugged.

“I don't know how to cook it.”

“Oh for fuck's sakes,” you groaned while pulling out more raw ingredients. Old onions, slightly rotting potatoes, lentils that didn't need to be kept cold but there they were anyway, some mushy tomatoes, a few packages of spices... You could make this work. Pulling a large pot from a shelf above the sink, you started to wash the vegetables and slice them into some sizzling oil.

“What are you doing?” The second Trooper had joined you now, and he pulled off his helmet to reveal a wrinkling nose as he sniffed the air. “Is something burning?”

“I'm cooking,” you said nonchalantly whilst stirring some pepper flakes and onion into the oil.

“Wait, you can't do that,” he said in alarm. His hand grabbed at the wooden spoon you had been using, but in the blink of an eye, you had wrangled the spoon back, kicked him to the floor, and had your foot planted squarely on his back.

“Yes I can. I'm making dinner, and you'll be fucking pleased about it.”

He scrambled from beneath your foot, looking back and forth from you to the  other Trooper and back. T N-0419  gave a shrug, “I've just been watching that she doesn't add anything she shouldn't to this.” You rolled your eyes. It wasn't as though you were making a show of cooking just to poison everyone.

The newly arrived Trooper made a defeated huff and pointed his finger at you. “I won't be eating it--”

“--Your loss,” you interrupted.

He continued, “And Lord Ren said to keep a good eye on her while we're on the surface. We'll be escorting the Knights within the hour.”  T N-0419 gave a salute but remained seated, his eyes now glued to your every movement as you placed more vegetables into the pot. If he wanted to strain his eyes, that would be fine by you. In the meantime, you merely continued trying to make something halfway edible, tasting the soup every now and then. It wasn't as good as anything that Anna could make, but it was at least worlds better than anything else you had eaten lately.

By the time that you heard the commotion of Kylo Ren, three of his knights, and the accompanying Troopers returning from the surface of Malastare, dinner was finished. Your guarding Trooper wandered over, staring into the pot with a raised eyebrow; he seemed caught between not wanting to trust you but being hungry enough to try the soup. You pushed him aside whilst grabbing the pot to begin carrying it up to the main level of the ship. 

“Make yourself useful while watching me; bring along bowls and spoons,” you commanded. He  frowned but scrambled about the galley kitchen to grab a stack of newly cleaned dishes  and then followed behind you as you made your way back to the lounge of the ship.

With the pot still held in your hands, you watched as Kylo Ren oversaw several Troopers and three black-clad knights.  They each appeared absolutely exhausted in their mud-covered cloaks and tabards, but the helmets over their faces hid any more clues about their fatigue . Two of them were massive—nearly as large as Kylo Ren himself and speaking in low tones beneath their helmets. Beside them was another knight  who was hardly any bigger than a child— like a sprite of a being in comparison to the hulking men . Kylo gave a few more commands and then pushed along the smallest knight, directing them down another hall th a t led to a private meeting room. The other two followed behind but not without catching a glimpse of you.

Kylo Ren must have noticed their hesitation and pointed a gloved finger at you and then to the Trooper directly behind you. “She stays here.”

Ignoring Ren's order, you stepped forward, following directly behind the knights as they  made to sit at a round table in the meeting room. You peered at each of them as they sat around the aluminium table. Kylo was visceral in the way that he moved toward you, chest knocking against the steaming soup held before you.

“I commanded that you stay behind. Or were you lying when you agreed to listen to my ever  order ?”

You quoted his agreement with General Hux back to him. “ I'm to be  _'left in a cell unless accompanied by'_ you, correct? I'll stay here with you rather than be guarded  by Troopers .”

Ren let out a fearsome groan, remembering the deal with Hux all too well. He had already broken that once, and he was certain that the Troopers wouldn't hesitate to reveal his actions to General Hux once back to Base. They were always so much more loyal to that bastard and Captain Phasma than to him. It was the last thing that he wanted at the moment, but Kylo Ren motioned you forward and pointed to a chair in the corner of the room where you could sit. You gave it one glance and scoffed.

Instead, y ou slammed the pot onto the metal table, some of the soup swishing out in a splash upon the surface. “I'm not doing this all the time, so you'd  all better enjoy this while it lasts.”

“What are you doing?” Kylo Ren hissed. 

“ Serving dinner; what does it look like?” you answered whilst filling a bowl.

Ren's hands had balled into fists as he got up from his seat, peering down at you through the black void of his mask 's visor. He was visibly shaking at your intrusion, but you stood your ground and responded with your voice kept low, controlled.

“Sit down. Eat,” you demanded. “ Consider it my 'thank you' for being kept alive.”

“I certainly don't need to be told twice,” a voice broke from behind you. You whipped around to see the largest of the knights remove his helmet to reveal a  fatigued,  middle-aged brunette. He was tanned with stubble and scars covering his face but full, smiling lips. He gave you a nod and started filling one of the bowls for himself.  Taking a sip, he smiled again in approval.

“Clees, you take your life into your own hands with her,” Kylo warned.

He shrugged. “There hasn't been a poison to kill me yet. And if she's eating it, then I feel reasonably safe. Try some, Lord Ren; it isn't bad.”

Another of the knights reached forward, taking a filled bowl from your hand. He too removed his helmet and shook out a mess of greasy blond hair that fell over his blue eyes. Like Clees, he was tall and bulky, though he appeared to be a few years younger—perhaps in his mid thirties. Each of his movements had a certain confidence and swagger, and though silent, he exuded power.  You would soon learn that he was the younger brother to Clees and followed his brother's lead at every opportunity.

Kylo Ren slowly shifted back into his seat, fingers flexing in and out of fists as he watched two of his knights eat. “ You as well, Kelakh?” he asked the second knight. Kelakh shot Ren an affirming glance whilst slurping down some of the soup, and Ren groaned whilst giving a small wave of his hand. Such a tiny movement, but it spoke volumes for his acceptance of the situation. You could feel a smile pushing onto your lips at seeing him acquiesce, and you set a bowl in front of him and the last knight, who sat silently beside Ren.

The smallest knight looked down at the bowl and then to Ren, back and forth. He gave a nod, and they, too, removed their helmet. A wash of straight, black hair fell forward, entirely covering the knight's face. It was only once they had removed their gloves and tucked their hair behind their ears that you realised the last knight was a woman. She stared up at you from slanted, almond eyes—her features rounded and deadly in their seriousness. Her lips were pale— _too pale_ against her brown skin, and she cringed ever so slightly as she pulled the bowl closer to her—one of her fingers twitching against the  spoon in her hand. She didn't say a word but glanced toward Kylo as though to ask once more if she should eat.

Again, he gave her the go ahead and pulled his own bowl closer. “Eat, Alma.”

“You trust her?” Alma whispered, side-eyeing the soup.

He cocked his head to the side, examining you for a moment. “Yes.”

Kylo picked up  his bowl as though he was going to get up from his seat and leave, but he thought better of it and set it back down.  As much as he wanted to go eat in the privacy of his quarters, now was not the time. Not with you running around calling shots, at least.  Besides, you were liable to  _follow_ him at this point, and he would rather dunk his head in that boiling soup than have that occur . With a sigh, he began to unlock the  bottom of his helmet, and a low hiss came from the locking mechanism. You waited with your breath held. Honestly, you hadn't expected to get to see his face this soon or even  _ever_ . But as he lifted the helmet, you were ready.

_Older man. In his sixties. Severe facial burns. A scar over an eye. Wait, not just over an eye. No eyes! I'm calling it; he isn't going to have eyes. He's gonna--_

Your jaw dropped when you actually caught sight of his face. He was so young! And... not scarred or maimed. Just an average person with ridiculously lush, dark brown hair and stupid little freckles and full lips just like that damned general.

“Damn it!” you cursed whilst slamming your fist against the table. The knights all stopped with spoons halfway to their mouths to watch you. “I had an image  _completely_ formed in my head of what you would look like, and now you've gone and ruined it! Just look at your stupid face! It's nothing of what I had imagined!”

Kylo Ren's lips twitched into a smile, his eyes slightly squinting. “I have to admit that your idea of what I would look like was rather amusing. I've watched you develop the picture for days.”

An ugly grimace covered your face as you realised that Kylo Ren had had total access to your thoughts about his physical appearance.  He had seen...  _everything—_ which included the possibility that they may have green skin and gills. One of your more imaginative creations, but it had still been a possibility for all you really knew.

You grabbed your own bowl of soup and started to silently turn toward the chair in the corner, but the largest knight, Clees, patted at the empty seat beside him and motioned for you to come forward. Plopping down on the seat next to him, you started to eat your own dinner.

“Well,” he mentioned, “I'm not yet dead, and it's not half bad.”

“The poison's slow acting,” you joked whilst taking another sip of the broth.

He laughed  and gave a strong glance toward Kylo Ren. “She's the assassin that you kept alive? A good choice.”

Ren  rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement on his face. “Anything to get back at Hux.”

Alma's quiet voice broke through, sharp and fast. “The next time that he commands the knights, I will not be so willing to obey, my Lord Ren.” She stared down into her soup as though lazer beams would shoot from her eyes. Whatever the mission had been, she was none too pleased with General Hux's meddling. As you would quickly learn, Alma was  _fiercely_ loyal but  _only_ to Ren. She worshipped the ground he walked upon. And everyone else? They were entirely insignificant.

Once again, the most interesting thing about seeing Kylo Ren interact with others was not the details or even content of their conversations so much as the information you could gleam of who was in control—of who had power and authority. Once again, Ren held the final word on all things, but his knights received so much more respect from him than did General Hux. It was an entirely different dynamic but one that was much more comfortable. Closer. Loyalties and trust were strong among this group.

You bit at your lip, trying to keep from smiling as Alma continued to speak in her soft, dangerous voice about how she would kill the next person to use her skills for their own. She hissed out General Hux's name, spitting it like venom. She was a feral thing. You liked her already. There would be plenty to talk about with her; just bring up the topic of General-fucking-Hux, and her silence would be broken.

_We'll get along fine_ , you thought,  _A group that bitches together stays together._ Y ou flinched as the rumbling of the Force spun briefly through your head and then exited like a wisp of smoke. You glanced at Ren who only gave you the briefest of acknowledgements.

His voice floated through your head for a moment like a whisper.  _“_ _Rather obsessive about the general, aren't we?”_

Your eyebrows pulled together as you contemplated what he had said.  _We_ . Did he mean everyone there? The Knights of Ren all discuss ed how much they disliked the general's attitude and policies,  but was that what he had meant ? You were sure that he could hear you trying to figure this all out, and Ren's eyes narrowed at you.

_We._

He wasn't talking about the Knights at all, was he?

He was talking about  _you_ . Just  _you_ and  _only_ you.

You swallowed a nervous lump in your throat and concentrated on your dinner.  _Me? Obsessed with that pretty boy general?_ _Absolutely not. Nope. Never._

The only type of obsession you had that involved the general was in seeing him cringe at the sight of you or wishing to kick him hard in the face. Nothing less. Nothing more.

_Nothing_ .

* * *

 

** A/N: ** For those of you interested, I have face claims for the Knights of Ren:

Clees: Tom Hardy  
Kelakh: Charlie Hunnam  
Alma: Rinko Kikuchi  
Regine: Karlie Kloss  
Salim:  Rahul Kohli   
Graem:  Godfrey Gao


	7. Elimination Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren puts you back to work as an assassin under his and the knights' watchful eyes, giving you a chance to fully win the support of the most fearsome warriors in the galaxy.

 

 **Chapter soundtrack:** [Heads Will Roll (Yeah Yeah Yeahs)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=auzfTPp4moA&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZua5eEwIyZTfyaD9xW06qP&index=114)

 

_Content Warning: Gore and blood and stuff. I mean... this is a story about assassins and the murderous First Order, but just in case you didn't get the memo._

* * *

 

Eyes closed, breath steady, Kylo Ren sat upon a padded mat in the small lounge of his private ship. His mind was focused on the beating of his heart, which slowed with each passing minute. In this state, he could feel the reverberations through space—the microscopic feelings of the Force that ebbed and waned as the ship carried him and his knights back toward the Starkiller Base. He no longer heard the sounds of the ship around him. Footsteps of Troopers were muted, engines were silent, voices were a hush no different from wind rustling through leaves. In the midst of his meditation, he was no longer a mere mortal but a being of power and great awareness. He was so much stronger than anyone would ever know, and he relished in the feeling. Perhaps he wasn't as strong as he would like to be, but he could work toward that state. It wasn't all that far away, wasn't impossible. It couldn't be. It...

Kylo Ren opened an eye, suddenly distracted, and let out a deep sigh at seeing you seated cross-legged directly before him. “I should have known that you would intrude.”

“You left the door open,” you replied.

His glance went to the open door, not having even remembered entering his room, much less securing it. After a bought of anger at a Trooper that morning, he had trudged off in frustration to meditate rather than strangle the life from the man.

“So I did,” he mumbled. Relaxing out of his meditative stance, he uncrossed his legs and drew a leg up to this chest so as to rest his chin on his knee. “What is it that you want?”

“Did you not trust me last night?”

His dark eyebrows pulled together as he studied your face and then slid into your mind. You had been thinking all night about his reaction to your dinner for the knights. Though you thought that at _some_ level he trusted you—hell, he had said as much—he had seemed... not too pleased with both your actions as well as those of his knights who had quickly eaten the soup. Ren shrugged as his consciousness separated from your own.

“It wasn't a matter of trust,” he answered after a minute of thinking. “It was a matter of gross annoyance.”

 _Annoyance, huh?_ “With me?”

“With the general.”

You leaned forward, your mouth twisting into a mischievous smile that was just begging for a bit of gossip. “What did he do now? Or is this still about commanding your knights under your nose?”

“He sent through a message as we were leaving the surface of Malastare.” Ren held out a hand and twitched a finger to send a datapad soaring across the room. It landed in your lap, flashed to life, and started scrolling through a series of transmissions without ever having been touched.

Your eyes scanned through the conversation between Kylo Ren and General Hux. Something about Force-sensitive individuals being discovered on a close-by planet and needing to be eliminated as per First Order regulation. General Hux had sent along specific coordinates and background information on the two individuals, and it reminded you of the type of transmissions sent from Raph when sending you out on a kill. The order almost made you wonder if Hux was in charge of Ren on some level, which really didn't make sense at all. Why would that posh, military _kid_ get to be the boss of someone as powerful and downright _terrifying_ as Kylo Ren? At some point, you would want to get to the bottom of just who exactly was in control of Kylo Ren, if anyone at all, but you figured that information would come in due time.

“We will be making a stop in roughly two hours to eliminate them,” Ren said whilst getting up from the mat and pulling his padded armour over his trousers and under-shirt. He acted as though this was simply par for the course. “And you will be accompanying me.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Letting me off the ship so soon?”

“Step by step. Two of my knights will be watching from a short distance, but today I will see _exactly_ what you are capable of.”

You gave a nod and cracked your knuckles. Perhaps most people wouldn't feel a flutter of joyful excitement at being told that they were being sent along to assassinate some random people, but for you, this was something normal. This was a chance to put your skills to use and stretch your legs and do more than just sit around, waiting and waiting for some indefinite future. Stretching your arms in front of you, you made your way toward Kylo Ren's doorway. “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

 

Knights Clees and Kelakh followed behind you and Ren as the ship touched upon a cool, damp planet in the Outer Rim Territories. Covered in deep green foliage and ivied grounds, the planet reminded you of a terrarium that had spilled from its glass to encompass uncountable miles of land. Deep fog and mist rolled through valleys and ditches, reducing your vision to only a few steps before you, and you kept your eyes glued to the swirling mist behind Kylo Ren's black tabard as he led the way.

“So why didn't Alma join us?” you asked as the four of you made your way down a muddy path that would take you to the bottom of a deep valley.

Clees was directly behind you, masked and in his all black, and he was also the only other person willing to speak at the moment. “She needs her personal time. A day of meditation and rest.”

That didn't seem like a very valid reason, but you could tell by the way that Kylo's hands flexed in and out of fists that there was something sore about the subject, and you dropped it. For _now_ , at least.

Thus far, you liked Clees the most of the knights. He was open and warm in a way that the other knights naturally weren't. His trust seemed automatic after having been fed, and it was a relief to find that his younger brother, Kelakh, was also willing to place some trust in you because of his brother's influence. Now, you merely hoped to gain the same sentiments from Alma and the others whom you had yet to meet.

 _And thinking of them..._ “Tell me about the other knights.”

Clees stepped from behind you to your left side, his gaze also focused on Kylo Ren's black tabard that barely showed up against the light grey mist. “There are three others—all training at the moment. They're the younger ones. Newer. Salim and Graem have taken it upon themselves to show our newest knight the ropes, though I think they'll find her more than capable. Regine could stab a man in the face, and he would thank her for it.” He grinned a little behind the mask, which was noticeable in how his low voice shifted. “She's politically powerful outside the Hosnian System—father's an elected king of Eufornis Major and loyal to the First Order—so she would be an asset to the Knights even if she couldn't kill a man with her bare hands. But we've been blessed with both.”

“And the other two who are training her?”

Clees continued. “Salim is another quiet one—like Kelakh here. Very skilled with a sabre. Force-sensitive. Former Trooper. You'll recognise him when you see him—tall, dark, and black-bearded. And then there's Graem...” He let out an irritated groan, preparing himself. “Graem is best described as Salim's polar opposite. You'll get along with him perhaps a little too well, judging by that sarcastic personality of yours. He's a relation to Alma, though distant and without her intuition. But he's loyal. We all are; we wouldn't have taken the surname of Ren if that were not the case.”

You had figured as much. The knights struck you as a bunch who were not interested in the First Order but in only Kylo Ren and his guidance. It was almost as though they worshipped him and his lead. Their loyalty was unquestionable, which was so opposite of your own sentiments. Never had you been loyal—merely obedient.

Your fingers graced over the arm's length vibroblade attached to your belt that Kylo Ren had provided you for the mission, and you held a small blaster in your left hand as well. They were such deadly weapons and ones that you had experienced in combat time and again. How familiar the weight of the blaster was in your palm. How comforting to have that vibroblade that could rip and tear through one's flesh in a second. And to think that you had been a prisoner at death's doorstep for the past week. Obedience paid off, and it did so quickly.

Kylo Ren began to slow his pace as the valley bottomed out, and he twitched a finger for Clees and Kelakh to slip to the right. Then he motioned toward you to follow him to the left, which you did whilst pulling a black hood over your head and a thin veil over your nose and mouth—it was time to become an actress in the field and hide your face from enemies.

The muddy path that you had travelled was now out of sight, and the two of you crept silently through the fog and over ferns as high as your knees. Ren knelt to the ground after a little while, letting the ferns hide most of him as he faced into the mist—seeing things that you could only dream of. He was quiet, breathing deeply as he searched through the Force.

 _They're in a home... Not far from here._ His voice was echoing through your head, and you responded back to him through thoughts that he would no doubt be able to hear whilst inside your mind.

 _What should we expect, and what precisely do you want me to do when we go inside?_ Suddenly, you were all business, and you could tell that he was pleased with the sudden change.

_There will be a man and woman—married. Kortana Tekka and her husband Bret_ _Figwit_ _are both Force-sensitive and both dangerous. They will be armed... most likely with lightsabres, which you will want to avoid. Kortana will be particularly difficult. Leave her for me. As for you, kill Bret in any manner you see fit._

You gave him an affirming nod. Never before had you fought someone who was Force-sensitive, but you didn't imagine that it would be _that_ difficult. If Ren trusted your abilities against Bret, then you had few worries.

Leading the way, Ren rose to his full height and pulled the lightsabre from his belt. All at once, it ignited with a mighty roar, crackling and snapping as the red blade illuminated the mists with a glow. The noise must have been enough to alert the targets to your presence, because voices could now be heard from a short distance ahead. Kylo walked faster, and the mists parted to reveal a small, worn house of mud-covered tree limbs with a thick sod roof. A tall, middle-aged woman stood in the doorway, her face grim and a lightsabre held in her hand. It flashed into life with a low hum, casting green light over the mud and ivy that wrapped over her home.

“I knew it was you from the very moment I heard that sabre,” she spat, voice feral and raw. Her light eyes were narrowed and brown hair pulled loosely from her face in a plait running down her back. She was dressed in simple robes of earthen colours—tans, browns, greens. It was a stark difference from your and Kylo Ren's all black.

From behind her, a man appeared. He was pale but with black hair in waves that framed his face and seemed to mix into the messy beard hiding his nervous frown. He too held a sabre, though its light was a deep cerulean.

Kylo Ren was almost playful in his reply. “Kortana Tekka... It's been too long.”

“Not long enough for my liking.” She took a step forward from the house, her bare feet sinking slightly into the mud. “I see that you are still under Snoke's control? Playing his games?”

Ren took in a deep breath, his grip on the sabre getting tighter. “Don't speak of what you don't know,” he warned.

She scoffed, raising her sabre to point it toward him. “I know all I need to know of you... of _him_... of the things you've done under his name. Such potential you had, and you wasted it by being a puppet. Tell me, how long will you continue to hide under the guise of a black knight and pretend that your name isn't Ben?”

You glanced from Kortana to Ren and back, eyebrows furrowing as you tried to keep up with the conversation. Any of the playfulness to Ren's body language had immediately switched to pure loathing as he gripped his sabre tighter than ever.

“You aren't to use that name.”

“It's _yours_ ,” she hissed.

Ren took a step forward, swinging his sabre in circles with ease. “Ben Solo died; you were there. You saw it.”

Kortana's left food slid forward, her toes curling into the moist earth as she brought her sabre closer to her body, ready to defend herself. “Yes... And now what? Do you plan to kill me as you did with them?”

Ren nodded, and his sabre stopped twirling through the air. For a moment, neither of them moved, and the only sounds were of the three sabres that hummed and snapped and crackled in the still air. Your fingers twitched against the blaster at your side, unlocking the safety. It was only a matter of seconds now before one of them made a move, and you sure as hell were going to be ready.

Like a bolt of lightning, Kylo Ren dashed forward, his sabre meeting against Kortana's in a shower of sparks through the mist. It was at this moment that you dashed forward, sliding through the mud past Kortana as Bret ran forward with his sabre directed at your chest. With the vibroblade in your right hand and blaster in your left, you dodged his attack and then chased after Bret, running as fast as you could around the sod house. He leapt from the fern-covered ground to the top of the house in one swell move, no doubt aided by the Force, and you followed after him, quickly climbing to the roof to step upon thick sod and grass that grew over a wooden lattice structure.

Bret's cerulean lightsabre clashed against your vibroblade, instantly slicing it in half so that one half fell into the ferns below and left you with only a dagger-length blade still shaking in its hilt. You threw the weapon down, and it cut into the sod, through the dirt and wooden frame, and down to the floor below, taking a section of the ceiling with it that crumbled and collapsed. Jumpingaway from the falling roof, you shot blindly with the blaster, hitting Bret in the thigh, just above his knee. He screamed out, and with his hand dripping in blood from having just grabbed at the wound, yanked away your blaster with the Force. The blaster soared into the mist, landing with a soft thud into the ferns.

Weaponless, you quickly slipped through the crumbling roof of the sod house, landing lithely upon the dirt floor. The interior was dark—only lit by the dim light of the open front door. You rolled aside just in time as Bret landed beside you, his sabre slashing in low hums through the air as he cornered you against a cast iron stove. You glanced back and forth, looking for anything that could help you defend yourself, and you pulled at the metal poker beside the stove to wave it in front of you. Bret gave you the slightest look of confusion as his sabre sliced the poker cleanly in half, but the destraction gave you all the time you needed to wrap your legs around his own and pull him down to the dirt floor.

The cerulean sabre flew from Bret's hand, cutting through another section of the timber latticework that held the roof, and more dirt and sod fell through to the ground. With Bret's legs still tangled in your own, you reached for the ignited sabre and threw it as hard as you could out of the front door.

Outside, Kylo Ren and Kortana Tekka were still battling, their voices and sabres echoing through the house as the roof continued to crumble and broken vibroblade scuttled beneath chunks of sod. Kortana lifted Bret's cerulean sabre in her right hand, now facing Kylo with both sabres against his own. As you wrestled Bret against the floor to hold him securely, you watched the fight unfold outside with a new sense of awe.

Kylo Ren was ferocious in his fighting. The physicality was beyond what you had ever scene—which was saying a lot considering that you had been in an order of assassins for the past thirteen years of your life. For the first time, you understood just why the Troopers so greatly feared him. It wasn't a matter of the Force or his personality that could allow him to torture someone with such great ease, but he was terrifying in strength and skill with the sabre. Each of Kortana's movements—even with both sabres—could be blocked by him. It was flawless, captivating. He moved effortlessly against her for a while until one of her sabres cut underhanded, slicing at Ren's waist.

He let out a mechanically distorted yell as the sabre cut cleanly through his thick belt, tabard, and even padded armour to slice deep into the tissue and muscle at his waist. The wound was immediately cauterised, but Kylo gasped in pain, faltering ever so slightly. Kortana used the split second to get another slice in at his right arm, sending Kylo twisting back to land on his knees. But like a predator determined for the kill, he was up once again and held onto his lightsabre with both hands as he fought back. All the while, he roared in pain and anger, his rage building with each passing second.

Still fighting on the floor against Bret, you swung your legs free from his own and lurched forward for his face, and with both of your hands around his head, you snapped his neck with a sickening pop. Kortana shrieked at that moment as though she could feel Bret's pain vibrate through her body and then dissipate in a blink of an eye. You glanced down at your hands that were still around his motionless face. Dead.

Good.

Kortana was fighting even more fiercely against Kylo Ren, hitting him once more on the arm. She was feral. Cornered. A wounded animal in an all-out defence of its territory and love that had been brutally shattered. She was a woman gone mad, and Ren suddenly appeared less comfortable as she launched her all-out attack.

Pushing past more of the collapsing roof, you dragged the broken vibroblade from beneath a pile of sod and shook the dirt from it. Thankfully, the engine was still working and keeping the blade vibrating violently back and forth, and holding it firmly, you ran toward the front door with the blade leading the way. The jagged end of the blade was pointed at Kortana's back, and within a matter of seconds, it was stabbing through her spine with an immense splattering of blood.

Time slowed in that moment as you yanked the vibroblade to the right, letting it tear through her spinal column and vertebrae and then muscle and ribs. Pulling hard, the blade released from her side, and she fell forward on her knees that were already drenched in the blood that poured from her side. Her head was tilted back as she swayed, eyes facing the sky that she couldn't even see through the mist. Her eyes seemed just as clouded as the fog, and they moved ever so slightly to the side to take in the sight of you. That gaze was unbreakable—so intense that it bore into your core to freeze your insides. For the briefest moment, you swore that you could hear her voice not just within your mind but reverberating within your entire body. _“Look at what you have done.”_ Your eyes narrowed to meet her gaze, but you gave no sign of discomfort as you watched her pupils go out of focus and shift away. Unblinking, she exhaled a raspy breath and then fell to her left side with the splitting of her torso.

Kortana Tekka landed on top of her husband's lightsabre, and the blade cut through her shoulder and the side of her face. But she felt nothing. Said nothing. She was gone in a flash, no different from Bret whom you had killed before her.

Kylo Ren ripped his helmet from his head, cursing under his breath about the wounds on his arm and waist. Using the Force, he sent the two sabres flying from beneath Kortana's body to land before him, and with one clean slice of his own sabre, he destroyed them. The crystals inside the hilts cracked and shattered, and the green and cerulean lights cut from existence to leave just the crackling red light of Kylo's sabre to illuminate the mist. And then, that too was turned off so that only the grey and white light held above him.

Clees and Kelakh ran down from the ferns and ivy, but Kylo paid them no mind as he sat in the mud for a few moments to catch his breath and stare down at the broken Jedi crystals before him. Even shattered, they were still beautiful, and he threw a handful of dirt on top of them.

You dropped the still buzzing vibroblade from your hand and stepped over Kortana's body to greet Clees, who clapped you on the back and looked over you. For all of the fighting and killing you had just done, you were hardly harmed. A few scratches, bruises, and a lot of mud and Kortana's blood covered you, but it had been a relatively easy battle, all things considered.

“Not injured at all like our Lord Kylo,” he commented.

You nodded and stepped over to Kylo Ren, offering a hand to help him up. He slapped your hand away and stood up on his own with his hand clenching the wound at his waist. Pointing toward Clees and Kelakh, he gave a command for them to collect the heads of the dead and join him on his ship. And without another word, he turned around to trudge through the fog and disappear.

You heard a hacking sound and turned around to see Clees cutting through Kortana's neck with a long knife, and he handed the disembodied head to Kelakh to place inside a canvas bag. Moments later, he ventured out of the destroyed sod house with a second head. He held it up to you before tossing it to his brother.

“The general collects the skulls as proof of death,” he explained. “We drop them on his desk and let him take care of the mess.”

“Sounds pleasant,” you hummed sarcastically. Raph had never made you bring back proof that you had killed someone. He was smart enough that, if you hadn't killed the person he was after, he would have known within no time. His informants and hackers could get details within minutes. And besides, his assassins did as they were told; they knew the consequences if they failed.

You watched as the bulging canvas bag held in Kelakh's hand dripped blood the entire walk back to Ren's ship and created a small pool upon the metal plate floor by the entry ramp. The blood dried and crusted against the canvas, turning a deep rust. And as Kylo Ren's ship glided into the hangar of the _Finalizer,_ just above the Starkiller Base, Kelakh tugged the bag from the sticky puddle and trekked away from the ship to unceremoniously place both heads on General Hux's office desk.

With the entry ramp open to the hangar below, you sat on the incline with your chin resting in your palms, waiting for any word from Kylo Ren that you could depart. By this point, you had seen both Clees and Kelakh leave alongside several of the Troopers, and even Alma had emerged after an hour. She held her helmet between the crook of her elbow and her waist and peered down at you with narrowed eyes.

“Do you realise that Lord Ren placed his life into your hands?” she asked whilst stepping down to the hangar floor.

You raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Yeah, I suppose. Does that win me any points in your favour?”

Alma grimaced, taking a moment to process her thoughts as she bit her pale bottom lip. Her fingers balled into a fist for a moment but then stretched forward as she exhaled. “I trust no one but him, but... it is a step in the right direction.”

“Better than nothing,” you commented. She gave the tiniest of nods and then glanced over your shoulder, her face twitching with a smile. You looked behind you to see Kylo Ren, his tattered cloak drawn over him to hide the gash at his waist and helmet over his head. He walked down the ramp and motioned with a finger for you to follow. Alma lurked behind him like a shadow as you kept to his side.

“You performed well,” he said after you had been walking for a minute and had made your way out of the hangar. You shrugged, not thinking much of the day's events. It was all part of the job. But Ren continued, his voice sounding more certain from under the modulator. “Kortana Tekka was a powerful Jedi. Most could not have killed her.”

“I'm not most assassins,” you replied. It was cocky, but you felt that it was deserved by this point. Kylo Ren must have noticed your confidence, because he let out a chuckle like the ones you had heard during that interrogation a week before.

“No. No you are not.” He laughed again, but at the same moment, you could hear his voice deep within your head, low and almost whispering beneath the outward displays of humour. _I owe you my gratitude._

His praise caught you off guard. No one higher up had ever thanked you before. Even when you had saved the lives of your fellow assassins during missions, they had mostly ignored your actions. The most that you could do was give a small nod and stare forward down the hall where a figure was marching in your direction as quickly as his legs could carry him. A devilish grin spread across your face at seeing none other than General Hux power walking his way forward with a heated scowl across his sharp features. He gave you a single look of disgust and then focused his attention on Ren.

“You were to send a transmission before arriving to inform of Kortana Tekka's fate,” he spat. “Did you kill Lor San's niece or not?”

Ren's posture straightened from a slouch, and he hovered menacingly above General Hux. “No. No, I--”

“--Then whose heads are sitting on my desk?” the general growled.

“Oh, they're certainly the heads that you wanted. But it wasn't _I_ who killed them.” Kylo Ren shoved you forward so that you were mere inches from General Hux, and he gave a look of confusion as his light eyes shifted from Ren to you and back.

“You mean to tell me that you allowed her _out_ of her cell, _onto_ your ship, and then _off_ of your ship, where you most likely entrusted her with _deadly weapons_ so that she could kill not one, but _two_ Force-sensitive targets? Are you absolutely out of your mind? Did you think for a single moment of what would happen if she betrayed your trust?”

“I did,” Ren defended, voice kept low and controlled. “And I decided to take my chances—something with which you should be pleased, seeing as how she _saved my life_.”

“Now, I wouldn't necessarily say that I _'saved your life'_ ,” you interrupted, but Ren was having none of that. He moved you aside with a hand to your shoulder and stepped even closer to General Hux. His helmet loomed closer and closer to the general, black visor catching the red lights from the hallway's cut-out lamps.

Ren's voice whispered a threat from the modulator, “You may carry on with your distrust and pretentious bemoaning that she would try to kill you, but she is no longer under your control. I sent a transmission to the _Supreme Leader_ rather than you, and she now falls under _his_ command. You have no more authority here.”

General Hux was seething mad but kept his jaw locked closed, molars grinding together in agitation. The glare that he shot from this light, blue eyes could have killed, and his lips twitched as he fought the urge to scream at Ren for his outright disobedience to the First Order. But as you watched the two men face off, you knew without a doubt that Ren had won this battle of words. It was true. Whatever authority that General Hux had had over your life had now disappeared in the blink of an eye—in the blink of Kortana Tekka's eyes as the life faded from them because of your hands. Such a simple thing, really, that the taking of her life would guarantee the safety of your own. And as Hux fought to control his face and emotions, you started to smile once more, which did not go unnoticed by the general.

“You find this funny?” he spat.

You scoffed. “Well, if what I _think_ is happening is _actually_ happening, then you're going to have to start getting used to me. And, yeah. Yeah, that's pretty damned hilarious.”

Ren's hand was against your back, and you could tell from the way his chest moved sporadically against his breath that he was trying his best not to laugh in the general's face. “She will need new quarters. Not a cell, but the same that you would offer to the lieutenants.”

Hux drew in a deep breath to steady himself. “You find her deserving of a _private_ room all because she decided to save your life for reasons that are most likely selfish in nature? Surely a Trooper barrack placement would be more appropriate--”

“No,” Ren interrupted. “And it would be best that you do not question me lest I make greater requests than can be delivered.”

Eyes twitching, Hux gave the most microscopic nod imaginable and then turned toward you, still looking down his nose as though you were an insect that he longed to crush. “You may have won over the foolish Knights of Ren, but you have yet to win _my_ allegiance, which I believe you will find to be much more important and much more _difficult_ to obtain. I would wish you luck, but I have a feeling that you will not try nor have the capability to please me. So from here on out, you will refer to me as _General_. And if I suspect for even a _second_ that you plan to go against me, I will not hesitate to have you killed. Do I make myself clear?”

You gave a wink, smiling arrogantly once more. “Yup.”

He peered at you for a moment, his eyebrows raising as though to urge you to continue, and you scoffed as you replied once more. “Yes, _General_.”

“That's better.” Hux gave one final death glare toward Kylo Ren, and then he shoved past both of you and gave a curt nod to Alma, who had watched the entire exchange from a few steps behind.

She strode silently behind Ren, giving him an all too knowing look before letting her dark eyes settle on you. There was an intensity there that matched Hux's own glares, but rather than loathing you, she was curious, questioning. It wasn't that she didn't _want_ to trust you, but she was trying to understand _how_. If you were good enough for Ren, then by damn, you should have been good enough for her, but it was a difficult pill to swallow.

“If she is to remain here and work alongside the Knights,” Alma said, her voice cool and quiet, “then she will need additional training.” She swallowed, keeping her eyes glued to your own. “And if my Lord Ren will allow it, then... this is a task that I can complete.”

Kylo Ren's hand was still at your back, but he nudged you forward toward Alma. She seemed uncertain of the decision that she had just made, but something told you that her loyalty to Ren would outweigh any worries that she had about your trustworthiness. Besides, you knew that you could win her over in time. It was easy to bond when you shared the mutual distaste for a certain redheaded general.

You held your hand out to hers, seeing if she would shake. Slowly, cautiously, she reached for your hand and gave a light squeeze. “You will not be a knight, but... welcome.”

“Thanks,” you said with a nod.

Her grip tightened, and for the first time, you saw Alma smile to reveal sharp, pearly teeth. “Now shut up and do precisely as I say, because you have an unimaginable amount to learn.”

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm not apologising to all of you LotR fans for Bret Figwit's name, btw. Anyway, new face claims are up on my face claim page, which you can find on my Tumblr sidebar [HERE](http://starkillerscience.tumblr.com/face-claims).


	8. Kitten and Pup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months have passed since your capture by Kylo Ren, and life has changed drastically for the better in nearly all regards. But at least one person remains who would love to see you dead.

 

 **** **Chapter Playlist:** [Combat (Flobots)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aNZEaKxJ3F8&index=30&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZua5eEwIyZTfyaD9xW06qP)

* * *

 

Foot tapping against the black marble floor of the hallway, you peered inside your usual training room with a frown. The lights were still off and heating turned down to a bare minimum so that the frigid cold of the _Finalizer_ had left spiraling patterns of ice against the inside of the metal wall. You flipped a switch and walked forward, feeling the immediate difference between the hard marble that covered most of the interior of the Base and then the springy wood panels of the training room.

Your eyes scanned the room: stacked pads in the corner for wrestling and gymnastics, weights all in place, wooden swords and mock blades in a case against the wall. Everything was as it should have been except for the person who was supposed to train you.

Alma Ren was missing again.

This seemed to happen nearly half of the days that she was meant to train you. You would show up, ready to have your ass kicked by her, and then the room would be empty. Whatever the reason was for her disappearance, you were never told. Kylo Ren never said a word about her absences, and the other knights were equally as non-helpful. All you had to go on was a single sentence said by Clees upon first meeting the knights: _She needs a day of meditation and rest._ Well, apparently she needed more than one day. More like one day for every three. It would seem that the knights operated on their own schedule doing whatever in the hell they wanted, and this much you accepted.

Scuffing the toe of your boot against the wood floor, you sighed and turned around to leave. A little rest really didn't sound that bad, actually. Ever since Alma had volunteered to train you, your life had been a whirlwind of sparring, getting thrown to the ground because of the Force, getting back up with bruises covering every inch of you, and then repeating the cycle. She was a strict teacher but efficient, knowledgeable. Alma knew how to kill and knew how to protect, and these were the lessons that she provided along with a healthy dose of information on how both the Knights of Ren and First Order operated. There was so much to learn.

Alma often sat in front of you, meditating for a few minutes before opening her dark eyes to bore holes into you. Then the quizzing would begin. She would ask about everything that you had learnt the day before—military structures, First Order commanding officers, the names and movements of attacks, the codes of conduct of the Knights. Nothing was off limits.

Or, well, _almost_ nothing was off limits.

You had definitely messed up a few times by asking questions that were forbidden. First of all, you were not to say a single word about Supreme Leader Snoke. You were allowed to _listen_ as he was spoken of, and you were allowed to know of his existence, but bringing up the subject was strictly off limits. Sometimes you slipped and alluded to Snoke in conversation, and each time, Alma would glare daggers at you to make you stop speaking.

“Sorry,” you'd apologised after mentioning Kylo Ren's recent orders from Snoke. “I always forget that he's... Never mind. I'd heard Kortana Tekka talk about him as if it wasn't a secret, and it's messed me up ever since. She was going on about Ren's past and something about being called Ben, and--”

Alma's hand had whipped forward to grab at your jaw, pinching your face as she snarled. “ _Never_ say that name. Not even by accident. That is a direct order from Snoke and punishable by _death_.”

You had swallowed a lump in your throat as Alma's hand left your jaw, and you rubbed at the bruise she had no doubt left against your cheek. The fire that had momentarily burned in her eyes had taken you off guard, and a shiver rolled down your spine. For a split second, you felt the same anxiety that you would have had under Raph's control, and Alma was completely aware of your quickening heartbeat and the sweat on your palms. She wasn't going to let you laugh this one off. _This_ was a lesson that you would certainly remember.

Whenever Alma wasn't beating you up, Kylo Ren usually was. Both of them had a command over the Force that made little sense to you, but you really didn't need to make sense of it. All you needed to know was that they were powerful, and you were not.

But that didn't imply that you were _powerless_. Far from, and you had proven that time and again over the past two months aboard the _Finalizer_ and Starkiller Base. Each time that you trained with the knights and were thrown to the floor, they congratulated you—for perhaps a specific movement that you had made that landed a bruise on their body, for a unique use of a wooden blade, for simply surviving their attack—and their approval only increased out in the field.

Really, having Kylo Ren as a master was a blessing. He was so different from Raph. Not that Ren was some superior person—he committed some pretty fucked up acts of violence—but he was so much less cruel. He didn't treat you like a slave nor even refer to you as one, which was... _different_. You had never experienced getting to make your own decisions or control your own life in any way, and so getting nearly free reign on board was both exhilarating and sometimes overwhelming. The only thing that helped bring you back down to reality was when you were given the same responsibilities as the other knights.

Perhaps once or twice per week, you accompanied the knights or Kylo Ren on personal missions to terminate Force-sensitive individuals, traitors and spies, and all those who opposed the First Order. Every kill was a new opportunity for you to prove yourself, and that's exactly what you did.

There was one person who did _not_ congratulate you on your successes, though, and that was General Hux. It shouldn't have surprised you; the man still _loathed_ your very presence. He scowled when you walked past in the hallways of the _Finalizer_ , and a wicked grin would cross your face at seeing him lose his cool when you dared to speak without his permission.

You remembered a month before, standing between Kylo Ren and Clees as Hux rattled on about a defector who had been spotted on a nearby planet and needed eliminated. His face was always so serious—always sharp and commanding—but his eyes grew icier each time he glanced in your direction. Those full lips of his would turn down with a twitch as he noted how _comfortable_ you were before him. Shouldn't you have felt some fear in the presence of such a high ranking general? Shouldn't you have cowered in the corner, anticipating the day when he would finally get to kill you? Perhaps you should have been scared, but with a position between two powerful knights, you weren't about to let this redheaded mongrel pup intimidate you. Who did General Hux think he was in trying to be so serious and terrifying? _Trying_ being the operative word. He was neither in _your_ opinion. He was a posh know-it-all who pretended to have power, and you weren't about to let him get away with that.

You couldn't help but treat Hux sassily, which no one else had ever done aside from Kylo Ren, and this only further infuriated him. He tried so many times during that first month to cut you down. Any excuse he would take to scold you. If you called him _Hux_ instead of _General_ or didn't salute him properly, he would release a snarl in your direction and command better of you. He would have most likely fought you with more than words if it wasn't for the knights breathing down his neck and personally protecting you. And besides, even if they weren't around, you could protect yourself. You were strong. Strong as hell.

You took in a deep breath, stretching your arms before you and looking at the bruises and fresh muscle. You had always been in decent shape as an assassin, but the past two months of getting enough food and proper rest and training had done wonders. There were muscles appearing that you had never known you had, and you gave a flex in the mirror of the training room. But when your eyes should have been focused on yourself, instead they were drawn to the reflection of a flutter of movement in the open doorway of the room.

Sitting in the doorway with its head cocked to the side was a fluffy, orange cat, its golden eyes watching your every movement.

“What the...” you mumbled under your breath as you turned around and started walking slowly toward the cat. “How'd you get here?”

Never in the past two months had you seen any animals on the _Finalizer_ , so this was certainly a surprise. You crouched down before the cat, your eyebrows drawing together. Reaching forward, the cat snuggled her face into your hand with a trilling chirp, and you twisted her black leather collar around in search of a tag that wasn't there. Nothing but rhinestones and a silver clasp where a tag _should have_ been. You frowned and picked the cat up so that she was resting against your chest with her front paws on your shoulder so that she could look behind you.

“Well, let's find where you belong,” you commented whilst walking out of the training room and down the hall. With no leads and no real knowledge of animals in general, you were somewhat at a loss for what to do. How long would this cat let you hold her before she leapt away? You thought back on a childhood of stories about animals and remembered Anna mentioning that cats were fickle beings who played by their own rules, but that only made you smile. They sounded a lot like _you_. Though this cat seemed rather mild as she enjoyed her ride on your shoulder. Perhaps you were more of a _lioness_ than a mere house cat.

“You seem pretty pleased with yourself,” you hummed to the cat. The two of you went past a gaggle of Storm Troopers, and the cat didn't even blink an eye at their loud noise. She seemed perfectly content. “Then again, same here. It's not too bad on board.”

You made another turn, now heading toward a small cafeteria on deck. There were so many different places to eat on board for the nearly eighty _thousand_ staff and personnel and Troopers, and you were still amazed by how much food you were allowed to have. It was such a major change, and you had grown quite comfortable with sneaking into the various cafeterias and dining halls and kitchens to eat whenever you damned well pleased.

This particular cafeteria had a tiny self-serve kitchen, and you plopped the cat on the counter whilst digging through the refrigerator. Pulling out a container of cream cheese, you dipped your finger into it and held it out for the cat. She sniffed the cheese for just a moment and then greedily licked it from your finger, her eyes going slightly cross-eyed as she focused on the cheese.

“Yeah, thought you'd like that.” You dipped your finger into the cream cheese again and let her have another serving. “So the question now is this: Where did you come from? And what am I supposed to do with you?”

The cat merely finished licking your finger and then twitched her tail over her back whilst looking for more cream cheese. You sighed and gave her a third serving. The dining area in front of you was completely empty save for a Trooper asleep with his forehead pressed against the surface of a round table. He was young, dark skinned and looking completely exhausted. You knew that life—knew what it was like to be in training and so tired that you would fall asleep just about anywhere. The cat followed your eyesight after a minute and twitched her fluffy tail once more. Then she leapt back onto your shoulder as though to command that you pay attention to _her_ and no one else. You laughed, accidentally waking the sleeping Trooper who fell out of his chair. Laughing even louder, you dashed out of the kitchen and back into the hallway with the cat balanced precariously on your left shoulder and head.

“Okay, where next?” you asked as the cat twisted over your shoulders so that her stomach was against the back of your neck, back paws and tail hanging off your right shoulder, and front paws and little head at your left shoulder. She bumped your cheek with her cold nose, and you kept walking forward, letting her be your guide.

As you neared another hallway, she nudged you once more, and you turned. It was an unfamiliar place, and you slowed your pace to look around. The marble floor had been replaced with a polished metal tiling, and the hallway was narrower than before. The lighting was dimmer as well, and you pursed your lips as the cat whipped your face with her tail to get you to turn down another connected hallway, then down a flight of stairs. The temperature had dropped ever so slightly, though it didn't seem to bother the cat at all. If anything, she was probably more comfortable in the cool and dry air with all of that long fur covering her.

You passed by a transmission and information panel on the wall that was slowly blinking with a green light, and you bit your lower lip as you stopped before it. By this point, you were fairly lost, and it was starting to seem like a good idea to find out your exact location on board before you wound up in a trash compactor. The cat didn't seem to understand why you had stopped walking, and she stretched against your neck, bumping your nose with her own over and over again.

“Hold on,” you snapped. “You're leading me to crazy places; lemme figure out where exactly I am...” Turning on the informational screen, you scrolled through a few rows of general personnel and Trooper announcements in search of a map. There were reminders of Trooper training sessions, of mandatory speeches that would be broadcast over the ship's comm system by General Hux, and then a line labelled in red as being of increased importance:

_Millicent missing._

“Don't know her,” you mumbled whilst still searching for the electronic map. You finally found it and zoomed in to find that you were apparently in a restricted zone. You glanced at the cat on your shoulder, meeting her yellow eyes. “Just where are you taking me?”

She chirped and booped her nose against your own once more. Groaning, you kept walking forward and hoped that you wouldn't run into anyone. There had been no indication in the hallways that this was a restricted zone meant for only captains and generals, but ignorance wouldn't be enough to keep you from getting in trouble if someone caught you wandering where you shouldn't. So you merely hoped for the best and kept walking.

Now the cat led you down another hallway with a set of doors on either side of the hall. The lighting was brighter here and the hall less bare than before. The metal panelling was actually _decorated_ in geometric patterns, which seemed odd. It was so out of place, and you frowned as the cat twitched her tail and whacked your face as you stopped in front of one of the wide doors.

“Here?” you asked. She let out a full meow and stared intently at the door. You pressed against the intercom beside the door's keypad and waited to see if anyone would answer. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. Still no one. You sighed and started to turn back around only to hear footsteps coming your way.

 _“Shit!”_ you hissed and turned back around. There was nowhere to hide, and the hallway was a dead end. The cat on your shoulder hid into your hair. Cringing, you held onto the cat and readied yourself for whoever it was coming near. Hopefully they would just be a few Troopers or maybe someone from maintenance or--

Your eyes widened and heart felt like it had fallen through your stomach and to the floor below.

It was General Hux and a sulking Kylo Ren following directly behind him.

For a moment, none of you made a move. General Hux stared toward you in shock, the bitter seriousness being removed from his face in an instant to be replaced by complete and utter confusion. His gloved hand moved forward a few inches before he pulled it back to his side and drew his eyebrows together.

“How did you...” His voice trailed off as the cat on your shoulder lifted her head from beneath your hair and gave a small chirp. Hux immediately flinched forward, his breath catching in his throat. “Millicent!”

He ran forward and pulled the cat from your shoulder so that she was hanging from his hands before him. She let out another chirp and began to purr as he scolded her.

“Oh!” you commented, “So _you're_ Millicent.”

Hux looked at you as though you were an absolute idiot. “Why in all the stars did you have my cat?” he growled, now holding Millicent protectively against his chest. He was feral in his rage, and you backed up a step.

“Listen, she found _me_ and led me here. It's not like I _stole_ her. Maybe you should keep a better eye on your cat,” you defended.

Hux shook his head and set Millicent on the floor as he walked up to you, a finger pointed in your direction. “Do you think for a _second_ that I would believe a word from your mouth when you--”

“She isn't lying.” Kylo Ren's mechanical voice interrupted from behind the general, and Hux swung around to see Ren patting Millicent's head. The cat licked at Ren's leather gloves and then walked in tiny circles around his legs whilst still purring.

“Did you just invade my cat's mind?” Hux hissed.

“Perhaps.”

General Hux groaned and pointed for you to leave down the hallway. “You aren't allowed here.”

“Yeah, I figured that, but blame your cat. She wanted me to be here for whatever reason.”

He peered down at Millicent who was now making her way back over to you so that she could rub her chin against your boots. “Why would she ever want someone like _you_ to be near my quarters?”

 _His quarters?_ You glanced once more at the doorway and somewhat elaborate metal working of the hallway. Now it all made sense. Millicent was taking you back to her home—to _Hux's_ home. This area was off limits because it held the private rooms of the highest ranking general on board.

You shrugged your shoulders as Hux glanced back and forth between you and Millicent, as though it was preposterous that his cat would associate with _you_ of all people. As though this was all _your_ decision. “I don't know,” you admitted. “And honestly General, I am in agony listening to you. I'll go ahead and leave.”

You stepped past him but felt his hand at your wrist, yanking you back. For a second, your pulse rate spiked so that you could hear your heart beating in your ears, and you had to remind yourself that this wasn't Raph. This wasn't a death sentence. This wasn't the moment before a hand came crashing down to beat you into obedience. You had to fight so many instincts all at once—to punch and snap his neck, to freeze, to flee. Each option passed through your head, but in the end, you remained staunchly in place as you waited for any indication that he would let go of you.

Some part of this thought process must have filtered over your face, because Hux let go of you with a pained expression that you hadn't previously seen. It was a frown but there was something else there. Something foreign that you didn't understand and, quite frankly, didn't _want_ to understand. You simply pushed past him and Ren and made your way back down the hall from where you had come.

Kylo Ren stood with arms crossed, staring in the direction where you had left. Hux was still in front of him, bashing his hand against the keypad beside his door so that it could whoosh open. Millicent ran inside, but Hux stood in the doorway, staring into the darkness of his living room.

“Why did she have Millicent?” he asked after spending a moment grinding his teeth in aggravation. He wanted answers to questions he didn't know how to ask, and so instead, Hux focused back on the only part of the encounter that he could truly make sense of.

“You're becoming increasingly obsessive about her,” Ren replied.

Hux shot him a warning glance, eyes cold and deadly behind red lashes. “You pretend to know much more than you really do, Ren. She's no different than a dangerous pet beneath your roof—waiting for its moment to bite into your throat.”

“Not much different than Millicent, then.” Ren was being purposefully cheeky, and he pushed past the general to enter into the private room. He flicked his fingers, and the lights turned on to reveal a sparsely decorated room of minimal metal and black furniture. Plopping down on a leather couch, Ren yanked his helmet from his head and leaned back as Millicent jumped up beside him. His eyes were closed as he patted at her head.

Hux watched the scene from his doorway with pursed lips. He hated it when Ren made himself comfortable in his private quarters. It always meant the man was there for a long while to discuss demands. Ren operated separately from the First Order and only had to answer to Supreme Leader Snoke, but that didn't mean that the knight wouldn't demand that the First Order help support his personal objectives.

An ever familiar pain tracked behind Hux's eyes, and he squinted them closed and growled. “Ren...” The man was in his head, lurking around, searching for information. For a few seconds, Hux could see your face and the myriad of emotions that rushed forth at seeing you. Hate. Loathing. Jealousy. Misunderstanding. Yearning. Anger. A neediness was pressing through his thoughts that he attempted to yank away from Ren's grasp, but there it was, pushing past to the surface for him to see.

“You know not to go into my head,” he spat.

Kylo Ren merely laughed and then pulled away from Hux's mind to leave the general gasping for breath. “You think that you hate her, but your anger is misplaced, _General_. You aren't just angered by her being alive and working alongside the First Order or under my command. No, it's more than that. You don't understand her. Not at all. And you don't understand why she doesn't take you seriously most of the time. You and I both know that she views you as nothing more than an arrogant, military kid rather than a warrior. And you're infuriated because you don't know how to change her mind.”

General Hux was leaning against the wall, panting and ready to throw something, _anything_ , at Ren to make him stop speaking. “You find this all rather humorous, don't you?”

Ren nodded, his lips pulling into a grin. “Of course. I live to see you suffer.”

“And for just how long are you planning to stay here and increase my misery?”

“As long as it takes to finalise the plans for our trip to Eufornis Major. You know that I have specific requests concerning our involvement with the planet's affairs.”

Hux groaned and seated himself across from Kylo Ren, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. That grin on Ren's lips was growing wider at seeing the general comply before him, and Hux sighed, buckling in for the long haul. He would be astoundingly lucky if Ren stayed for less than two hours with this topic of conversation.

“All right,” Hux mumbled. “State your demands.”

* * *

 

It was amazing just how much cat fur was stuck to your black tank-top after having held Millicent for less than an hour. You sat on the bed in your quarters and plucked the long strands of orange and cream hair from the fabric. It still amazed you that the cat had been the general's. You weren't sure what you had expected, but it hadn't been that. The idea of General Hux caring for another being seemed hilarious beyond reason. It was absurd. It was stupid. _He_ was stupid.

You rolled off the bed and crossed the single room of your quarters to a small table with two chairs on the opposite side. A datapad was docked in a charging station against the wall, and you plucked it from the charger, fingers dancing against the screen. A transmission from an unfamiliar number had been sent through while you had been busy following commands from a cat, and you tapped the transmission open.

Inside the transmission was a message written in a code. Unlike the transmission number which had been new to you, this code was all too familiar. It was one you had used for thirteen years. One used to convey transmissions full of sensitive information concerning targets for kill. You could feel your chest tightening as you stared at the code and swiftly translated it.

 

8-00-140-419-8501:  _Raph knows you're alive, and he knows where you are._

 

Your eyes still stayed glued to the transmission, fingers slightly trembling as you closed out of the transmission and set the datapad back onto the table. You knew without a doubt that the message had been sent from Anna. The code was handwritten directly into a datapad, and you knew her handwriting. There was no mistaking that it was hers nor that it had been written in a hurry. The message was ominous and enough to make you want to run and hide, though you didn't know  to  where. All you really knew was that the message wasn't a threat, even if it happened to look intimidating.

No.  No , it wasn't a threat.

It was a warning.


	9. The Protection Squad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raph Niehaus is now aware of your survival and home aboard the Finalizer, and he sets his eyes on your life and everyone around you. Feeling more nervous than you have in months, you take it upon yourself to protect the one man who is most defenseless against the attacks of Raph's assassins—General Hux.

 

 **Chapter Soundtrack:** [Muscle Museum (Muse)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYqmDqFh038&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZua5eEwIyZTfyaD9xW06qP&index=36)

* * *

 

8-00-140-419-8501:  _Raph knows you're alive, and he knows where you are._

8-00-140-419-8501:  _He knows you didn't kill the general._

8-00-140-419-8501:  _Breeah found everything._

8-00-140-419-8501:  _You know what this means._

“We need to talk, and it's important.” Your feet were flying down the hallway as you approached Kylo Ren, and he turned around with complete nonchalance. Several of his knights had been following behind—Clees and Kelakh at a distance, Alma directly behind him, and beside her, Graem, whom you had only recently met. They stopped walking and peered toward you from beneath their helmets, no doubt intrigued as to why you looked so worried.

Kylo Ren leaned forward, and for a moment, you could feel him enter your mind. He did a gentle sweep and nodded. “This is about your former master?”

“Yes.” _Raph_. It was all about Raph and always would be, and you despised it. “He knows where I am. Shit... I just got a warning. He knows I'm alive, and he knows I'm here, and it's going to put _all_ of us in danger.”

You could hear Ren let out a slow exhale as he mulled over the situation, and then he motioned for you to follow him and the knights toward a meeting room down the hall. Ren opened the door with a flick of his wrist and sat down at a long, metal table. The knights followed behind, Alma and Graem sitting to his left and Clees and Kelakh at his right. You leaned against the edge of the table beside Clees, staring unseeingly toward the wall and trying to gather your thoughts.

“He knows I'm here...” you mumbled, fingers running through your hair as you tried to process it all. You should have known that he would find out. He always did. This was why he had an assassin aboard whose primary job was to hack into enemy systems and find information. You could see his hacker in your mind. See her face. _Breeah..._ She must have crept into the First Order's information systems to find that you were alive, though thank the stars that she must have leaked the same information to Anna.

You were a mess as you tried to put all of the information together, and Clees patted at your arm. He removed his helmet to reveal a frown, eyebrows pulled together in concern as he bit at his lower lip.

“What in all the hells did that man do to you?” he asked.

You shook your head, trying to not let the conversation wander down that path. It wasn't what you needed right now. Right now, you needed to form some kind of plan or just scream for a few minutes or hide under the table.

Kylo Ren leaned forward against the table and removed his helmet as well. His gloved fingers were at his chin, eyes unfocused as he thought. “How much of a threat do you believe him to be?”

You swallowed a lump in your throat, feeling slightly nauseous. “An eminent one. You've seen in my mind. You know what he's capable of. He'll kill me and anyone around me.” Your eyes focused on each person in the room. “That includes all of you.”

Graem scoffed and tossed his helmet off, letting it roll across the table and bump against your back. You turned around and sat on the table, glaring at him. Usually he was fun to joke with, but now wasn't the time. He was smiling sarcastically and ran his fingers through his messy, black hair. Like Alma, to whom he was related, he was attractive and had thin almond eyes that always squinted as he smiled, but he was far more tanned than her from all the years training in the bright sun of another planet. And then his personality was completely opposite from hers. Far more talkative, more humorous, more vain.

He took nothing seriously but for Snoke's orders and his own reflection.

Alma hated him.

Graem raised an eyebrow toward you. “I'm pretty sure we can handle ourselves.” Several knights against a group of assassins sounded like fun to him, and you could see where he was coming from. There was little need to fear others when you had the Force at your disposal.

“Yeah, _you_ all can,” you snapped. “Even _I_ am pretty safe, because I know how Raph operates. I know what to expect. But he also knows that I never killed the general, and _that_ is going to come back and bite us. He knows that I failed, and he'll try to correct my mistakes.”

Ren glanced up at you, dark eyes narrowed as he frowned. “Do you see him trying to kill Hux once again?”

“Definitely.” Except that this time he wouldn't be as foolish about who he sent on the mission. Any attack would be more deadly than before. “If I know Raph—and let's be real, _I do—_ he'll try harder than ever to kill General Hux now that he knows I'm alive. Hell, he probably knows that I'm working for all of you and the First Order, so he's probably even more enraged. If anyone is in danger because of this, it's Hux, and he's going to need protection.”

Leaning back in his chair, Kylo Ren stared up at the ceiling. In all honesty, he didn't feel nearly as concerned as you about General Hux's safety. Unlike you, he knew that the general could handle himself. He may not have looked like it, but he could be fierce where it counted. But there was no denying that you were worried. Ren studied your face—the way that you were flushed, sweating from anxiety, pupils dilated in fear. He had never really seen you so serious, and it was _that_ that set off little alarms in his head. You were so adamant that the person you apparently disliked be protected.

Ren started to grin to himself. “Well... You seem to understand how it is that Raph operates. So why don't _you_ be Hux's protection?”

You could feel your eyes widen as you backed up a few inches. “ _Me?_ You want _me_ to watch after General Hux? I mean, I'd love to see him squirm when I show up and don't leave, but the man despises me.”

Kylo Ren thought about his for a moment but was grinning again. He was hiding something. Truly, he would love to see the same thing—to see Hux sputter with anger as you followed behind him for days or weeks on end. It would be a welcome treat. “Yes,” he finally answered. “You should do it. You may have a rotation of knights if you deem it necessary, but I will leave the general's protection to _you_. Nothing else makes sense.”

You bit at your lip, frowning and feeling a nervous energy roll from your stomach and into your throat, but you nodded. It was an order, and you would obey it. But that didn't mean that you were necessarily happy with being put in charge of Hux's protection. It was a lot of responsibility over a man whom you often couldn't stand. But at the same time, you knew that you were capable of protecting him. With Raph's and now Alma's training under your belt, you would be ready. Hux wasn't going to be killed under your watch, and that much was certain. But now the only question that remained was this:

Would General Hux _allow_ you to save him?

* * *

 

“Do you _have_ to follow me so closely?” General Hux hissed as you lurked behind him. It had been like this for days. You would walk behind him like a shadow, finger always tapping against the military-issue blaster connected to your belt and eyes scanning everything in view.

“Yeah, I do. Unless you really want an assassin's blade in your chest. But hey, maybe you're into that,” you answered. He merely groaned and continued walking.

Anna had sent through a few more transmissions since her first round—all with warnings that Raph was planning something. Something big. Something dangerous. She was purposefully not involved in the planning, but Breeah passed along information when it came in. Thus far, Raph wasn't aware that you knew anything, which was for the best. Not so much for your sake, but for Anna's and Breeah's. They were risking everything to keep you informed.

General Hux had immediately despised that you were meant to guard him. “She tried to _kill_ me, Ren!” he had yelled. “And now you expect me to place all faith in her?”

“Yes.”

“You are both the absolute _worst_.”

“She believes that your life is in danger and spoke up about it,” Ren snapped. “The least you could do would be appreciative. She could have said nothing and let you die.”

“There has yet to be any evidence that I am going to be killed.”

“Don't play dumb, General.”

You watched the exchange with a mixture of anxiety and playfulness. Nothing got you off like seeing General Hux's face turn into an angry grimace. He had eventually accepted Ren's demand that you follow him, but he didn't do so gracefully. In the back of his mind, he still believed that this was all ridiculous—that he didn't need someone to baby him when he was constantly surrounded by Troopers who were more than capable of keeping him safe.

Sometimes, one of the knights would join you in watching after Hux—usually Kelakh or Graem. They would remain helmeted and in their black tabards as they stood beside you, watching each person who passed by the general, and the company was refreshing. Kelakh was quiet, so he let you whisper stories or comments. And Graem never shut up, so you always had something interesting to listen to, though you noticed that Hux seemed rather on edge on those days. There was something he didn't like about Graem, and you couldn't quite place it. Maybe it was because the man was always so damned charming as he cracked jokes. Maybe it was because he was Force-sensitive and expertly trained and yet lacked any type of seriousness in his duties. Or maybe it was just some kind of rivalry that you weren't meant to understand. Either way, you didn't care all that much; it was just another chance to see Hux draw back his upper lip in disgust, and you loved seeing that expression on his face.

And as the days went on of following behind Hux, you became less silent in his presence. At first, you were his shadow. But then... you became the shadow that provided snarky commentary. And finally, you weren't a shadow at all but the one who walked just a step behind him and chatted throughout the day. For the most part, he tried to ignore you. Tried to ignore your condescension or jabs at his perfectionism. Tried not to show his anger when you were feeling particularly comfortable with yourself and poking fun at him.

“I have an imbecile for a body guard,” he commented. His sea-glass eyes were twitching as he peered down his nose at you. He was so pristine, so sharp and flawless as he shot daggers with his eyes, and you couldn't help but laugh.

“Man, you're gonna shit bricks when you find out that I'm actually smart.”

“ _Man?_ ”

“Sorry, _General_.”

“That's better,” he mumbled and then continued to a meeting room. He was holding a conference with several of his captains, and he stood at the far end of a diamond-shaped table, a hologram projector lighting behind him. You stood to the side, arms crossed as you leaned against the wall and kept an eye on everyone in the room. The officers of the First Order had started to anticipate that you would be following the general at all times, though they still weren't privy as to _why_. One of them, a Captain by the name of Teobalt, seemed particularly concerned as to why you were allowed to join the general in even the most covert of meetings. But a single glance from Hux had closed the man's mouth.

The hologram behind General Hux sputtered out an image of the Starkiller Base that was in orbit below the _Finalizer_ , and he began to point at various sections of the planet, explaining their future uses and capabilities.

“In twenty-two months, this must be operational, but as you are all well aware, the First Order must obtain the proper funds,” Hux explained. “We have been fortunate to be favoured by King Clovis of Eufornis Major, who is hosting a fundraising gala toward the base's development, but I need confirmation that we can raise thirty five percent more credits in this quarter than during the last. For this, I need help from each of you.”

The captains glanced from one to another, each looking slightly uncomfortable. It wasn't as though they hadn't each _tried_ to raise funds, but it was difficult. Credits were tight in the galaxy due to an expanding war budget. There were few more places left to try for cash, so most of the captains had helped to set up mining infrastructure on other planets in order to sell the raw resources.

Sitting at the far end of the table from General Hux was the only other woman in the room—a pale blonde who stood nearly a full head taller than most of the men. She was dressed in her officer uniform of all black, but you knew her better as the only captain who was allowed to wear a chrome set of armour. You had never spoken with her, but from what you could tell, she was an admirable warrior and leader.

“Sir, do you believe that we would be better off abandoning mining in favour of more lucrative options?” she asked.

Hux nodded. “What mining stations we have shall remain, but I don't believe it's in our interests to produce new sites. I welcome your ideas, Captain Phasma.”

She remained calm, serious, but it wasn't put on like with the general. This was her natural demeanor. “I would be interested in trying system-wide economic manipulation, though the details would be best left to yourself.”

He smiled, knowing that he had been complimented by her. “It's something I've considered after new taxation fell through--”

“Have you tried taxing Abafar's neutral markets?” you interrupted. The words had tumbled out of your mouth before you even realised that you had spoken out at a meeting meant for the upper echelons of the First Order.

Hux's head whipped in your direction, but rather than barking for you to keep your mouth shut, he seemed... _surprised_. “Explain yourself.”

You shrugged and took a little step forward so that you were standing between him and Captain Teobalt. “Well, I've been there on missions a few times, and it's full of untaxed zones. Why not just secretly place import taxes or something? I mean, if you do it right, it could be an option.”

The captain beside you raised an eyebrow. “What do you know about taxation?”

“Not much. But I _do_ know that Abafar has over two hundred independent markets—all with different rules. If you went in and set up import taxes at each market, you'd get a shit ton of money pretty fast.”

“And when the merchants protest, I suppose you would just have us apologise and slip away?” he asked.

Once again, you shrugged your shoulders. “Offer them protection or something; I don't care. I'm just giving you an idea to work with.”

Captain Teobalt scoffed, but you noticed Captain Phasma lock eyes with Hux on the other side of the table, and he gave the slightest of nods in her direction. “Thank you for your input,” Hux said after a moment, voice highly controlled. He motioned with a nod of his head for you to return to the wall behind him, and you stayed quiet for the rest of the meeting as the captains continued their planning.

Once the meeting broke up, you remained behind Hux as Captain Phasma approached him. She glanced at you with curiosity but then focused back on the general, their conversation being kept quiet as they plotted further. As their conversation came to an end, Phasma turned to leave but not without looking at you once again with the slightest of smiles. She knew something that you didn't, and whatever it was, she found it amusing.

Hux noticed and turned to you as she left. “You shouldn't have spoken.”

“But you liked my idea.”

He didn't answer. You took that as a 'yes'.

“I told you,” you reminded as both of you left for down the hall. “One of these days, you're going to find out that I'm smart, and your whole mind'll be blown.”

“I rather doubt that,” he replied.

“Pft, lies and slander, General.”

His lips pulled into a smirk for the briefest moment, but then he was back to his usual seriousness. “Next time, speak to me _after_ the meeting. Captain Teobalt will be complaining about your behaviour otherwise.”

“And will _you_ be complaining with him? Drinking brandies and bitching about me?”

He turned for a moment, his pace stopping in the middle of the hallway. There was something slightly neurotic to his features as he contemplated what you had said. Complaining about you had become one of his primary pass-times over the past week, but he realised at that moment that he had never complained when not in your or Kylo Ren's presence. And something about that struck him as strange. His eyebrows pulled together, and he sighed.

“I only bitch to your face.”

“That's what I prefer, anyway,” you said with a wink. He tried not to smile and picked up his pace once more, but you noted his agitation. His fingers were twitching beneath his leather gloves, his walk more mechanical than usual. How did he manage to be so incredibly uptight? It was almost laughable. Actually, it _was_ laughable, and you would have chuckled to yourself if you hadn't heard just the _slightest_ of rumbling noises above you.

You glanced up toward the ceiling, all humour falling from your face, and then you leapt forward, knocking Hux to the ground beneath you. He yelled out in surprise and tried to tangle himself from your limbs and his coat, but you shoved him down further and yanked your blaster from your belt to shoot three times directly above you.

“What are you-- How _dare_ you--”

“SHUT UP,” you commanded. You shot once more at the vents in the ceiling, and all at once, the metal came crashing down along with the body of a young woman. Hux immediately fell silent and scooted away on his bottom, his face contorting in anger at the sight of the woman writhing on the floor.

She was twitching madly, two blaster wounds bleeding profusely from her abdomen as she shrieked out in pain. You scrambled to standing and aimed the blaster directly at her head. She started to cough up globs of blood, choking as she clutched at her bleeding stomach. You recognised her—had seen her so many times on board Raph's ship as she trained to become a full-fledged assassin.

“You're one of Raph's,” you whispered, voice low and dark.

The woman's eyes were glued to yours, and she spat a mouthful of blood in your direction. “Traitor...” she gasped. “To the... final armament...”

You wiped the bloody spit from your neck and stood above her. “I'm not a traitor. Just owned by someone else is all.”

“No... You're... Still his.”

Your lip was trembling, but you stood your ground in complete silence. And then in the blink of an eye, you shot the blaster at her head.

Hux was still seated sloppily on the floor, eyes wide with shock and face pale as he stared down at the twitching body of the woman who had just tried to kill him. He hadn't heard her coming at all. Hadn't expected a thing. Everything had moved so quickly, and he was paralysed as you stepped toward him and placed your blaster back into your belt.

There was still blood on your neck and shirt, and he wiped it away as though to check if there was a cut beneath—as though to make sure that you hadn't been harmed. His eyes fluttered between the serious, concerned look on your face, and then the bloody mess that had once been the assassin's head. “How did you know...?”

“I heard her. We were taught to travel through vents; I know the sound.”

He nodded, and several Troopers started to run in your direction, all shouting. Hux immediately pulled himself to standing and grabbed his coat off of the floor. Shoving aside the Troopers, he started to barrel down the hallway with a quick pace and looked over his shoulder at you.

“Are you coming?” he hissed.

You still stood there in the middle of the Troopers, trying to comprehend the full impact of what had just happened, but you took in a deep breath and relaxed, letting your face fall back into its regular smile. Feet carrying you without even thinking, you followed after him so that you were less than even a step behind him. You were close enough that the hem of his coat could flutter against your shins—close enough to smell the pomade on his hair and sweat against the back of his neck.

Close enough to protect him from damn near anything.

“Yeah,” you answered so quietly that only he could hear. “Yeah, I'm coming.”

* * *

 

“And then, I swear, I found my face on the floor beneath her, and within a mere second, she was firing into the vents. How she managed to move that quickly, I'm still uncertain, but it was uncanny. I almost contemplated asking her if she _knew_ that the attack was to occur. Damn her, I don't know how she...” Hux's voice trailed off as Kylo Ren paced back and forth in the general's main living quarters. It was just the two of them now, but six Troopers were stationed around Hux's quarters to prevent another attack. “You aren't listening to me.”

“Do I _ever_ listen to you?”

General Hux groaned and flopped on his back on the couch. Millicent was sleeping on the armrest, and he slowly twisted his fingers into her fur. “I hate that she was able to throw me to the ground as though I was nothing more than a rag doll to her. Obviously, she has been given too much power. She's too comfortable. She--”

“She saved your life. Stop complaining,” Ren growled. He had been listening to Hux recount the story for nearly an hour, and the general was only growing more frustrated. He couldn't understand how you had been able to so easily save him. He hated it. Hated his own weaknesses. And the truth of the matter was that General Hux _wasn't_ weak, but he always seemed to appear so when around you, and it was enough to drive him mad. When was it that you would see that he was a man of power and authority? A man who, _most_ of the time, could protect himself and then some? It was absolutely infuriating.

Hux could feel Kylo Ren slip into his mind, digging roughly around his thoughts. It wasn't all that unusual, but in Hux's current state of agitation, it merely pissed him off more.

“ _Out_ , Ren.”

 _No, no. I'm onto something._ His voice echoed in Hux's brain. The knight pulled at various thoughts, seeing the way that you had saved Hux through broken memories, seeing how you had interrupted the meeting with the captains.

“What is it that you want? A replay of today's events?”

 _Not just that_. He dug further, and Hux's eyes snapped closed and teeth pressed together so hard that his jaw ached. Sweat was starting to drip through his hair and down his neck, and his clenched fingers were trembling. But it wasn't just with anger. There was a nervousness that was punching through him, and Hux swallowed nervously as he realised just what information that Ren was after.

It was about you.

It was _all_ about you.

Hux tried to fight against Ren, tried to hide all of the thoughts that were beating at the inside of his skull, and his hands clenched over his head to try and stop him. “REN!” he yelled out, but there was only the man's laughter in his head as he pulled at his most private thoughts.

Flashes of memories crossed through Hux's vision, followed by the intricate emotions that connected to them. Neurons were firing faster and faster, and Kylo Ren could see the way that Hux looked at you. He could see how Hux's eyes traced over your face to take in every single detail. He could see the memories that had never even happened—the wishes that were burned into Hux's mind. Ren watched the fictional scenarios. Watched Hux's hands press against your shoulders, push your back to the wall and lean forward. Watched as he wanted to reach forward and grab you. Watched as Hux's fingers danced over your skin and longed for the warmth. But then those wishes faded. Hux was left staring at his own hands, not knowing what to do with them. His sea-glass eyes lingered once more on the image of your face, and then the image was sucked away.

Hux's eyes snapped open to see the couch in front of him, and he gasped for breath. Ren had left his head, but a pounding migraine had taken his place.

 _“Get out,”_ Hux spat as he squeezed at his forehead. “How _dare_... You've crossed a line...”

“ _I_ crossed a line?” Ren was nearly cackling as he started walking toward the front door of Hux's living room. “How amusing when it's _you_ who has pushed past the boundaries of what is appropriate. Your loathing and obsession has turned to infatuation.”

“You're wrong.” Hux refused to look at him and hissed at the pounding behind his eyes. “It isn't infatuation.”

The door slid open in front of Kylo Ren, and he tugged his helmet into place, laughing all the while. “Keep lying to yourself, then.” And then he was gone, leaving Hux by himself to contemplate just what in the hell Ren was going to do with his most private of secrets.


	10. Lioness vs Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pranks. Lots and lots of pranks. And I'm not apologising for the amount of crack in this chapter.

 

** Chapter  Playlist: ** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fC_q9KPczAg&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZgeVhO3p55XF2de1HObQaw) (Yes, I'm back to making an actual playlist for each chapter.)

* * *

 

Kylo Ren was at your door the next morning, his helmet in hand and a wicked, shit-eating grin on his face. You were still half asleep when you answered your door, but this didn't seem to bother Ren as he stepped inside your quarters and tossed his helmet on your messy bed. Hair in a mess and pyjamas twisted around, you followed behind him.

“You seem fuckin' happy,” you croaked. Glancing at the digital clock on your shelf, you noted that there was only an hour before you were supposed to be watching after Hux once again. “Can I ask why you're visiting before seven in the morning?”

Ren laughed at himself and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging ever so slightly as he looked out of the tiny viewport of the room. “Would you like to know something hilarious?”

You gave him a blank stare, eye twitching with fatigue. “If I say no, you're probably gonna tell me anyway.”

“Last night, I had the miserable experience of visiting with our general as he recounted your valiant deeds,” he explained with as much sass as he could muster. “And it took little time to realise that he wasn't going to stop talking about you. The ass was insistent that no other topic of conversation be brought up.”

“I don't see how this is supposed to be funny,” you commented whilst sitting down on your bed and running your finger over the scratches on Ren's helmet. His lips twitched defensively when seeing you touch his things, but he continued on anyway.

“ _That_ wasn't what was hilarious. What _was_ amusing was the digging through that brain of his afterwards. And do you know what I saw?”

“What?” you groaned, leaning back and tossing the helmet like a ball into the air.

“His complete and total _infatuation_ with you.”

That wasn't what you had expected. You caught the helmet in midair and swung your legs to the side of the bed, immediately standing up to cross over to him.

“What do you mean?” Your voice was rushed and full of curiosity.

Ren grinned wider. “What do you think?”

“Are you saying that _General-fucking-Hux_ has a crush on me?”

He let out a chuckle in reply, looking like a kid in a candy store or a middle-aged woman who had just found out the best gossip all year long from her neighbours. His hand was back at his hair, and he scratched at the back of his head. “It wasn't a surprise to see. He's been rather obsessed with you for a while, but that didn't make seeing what he wants to do to you any less satisfying.”

You sputtered out a laugh in disbelief. _You_. General Hux had a crush on _you_. This was absurd. This was hilarious. This was...

“Ren, you know what we have to do now?”

He raised a dark eyebrow, already anticipating what you were about to say.

“We've gotta fuck with him.”

* * *

 

It started with the smoke alarm wailing through the bridge of the _Finalizer_. There was no actual fire—there didn't need to be. But the alarms and flashing red lights were enough to cause a massive commotion. The Troopers had been warned ahead of time and commanded on what to do, and they had listened with increasing anxiety as Kylo Ren stood behind you and let you explain the plan. The second that they heard the alarm, they were to drop to the floor.

“Don't move. Don't speak. Play dead.”

“Ma'am... If a commanding officer speaks to us, though--”

“Nope,” you interrupted. “Unless the commanding officer is Kylo Ren, do. Not. Move.”

The Troopers rocked back and forth on their heels, feeling more and more nervous as the minutes passed. They tried to go back about their business on the bridge, but their movements were stilted. You glanced in Kylo Ren's direction as he sent a transmission to General Hux, who was to be accompanied by Graem. Apparently, Hux hated the knight with every fibre of his being, so Graem had become the perfect choice for aiding in your plans.

“Is he on his way?” you asked Ren. He gave a nod, and that's when you pulled down on the fire alarm. Immediately, the lights cut to half power and flashed red, and the alarm roared through the bridge and surrounding hallways. Each of the Troopers fell to the ground as commanded, and you and Kylo Ren both hid behind a partition as Hux came running into the bridge, wide-eyed and frazzled.

His eyes scanned over the seemingly dead Troopers, and he looked around for any sign of life as Graem ran up behind him. Then Graem fell to the ground beside another Trooper, pretending to writhe in pain. Hux appeared completely perplexed by the situation and called out for Ren and then you.

“Ren! What is--”

At this moment, you released a shower of sparks into the air from a nearby control panel and watched as Hux jumped back in surprise.

“Ren!” he called again. “Are you here?”

Kylo Ren cracked his neck and glanced in your direction before stumbling out of the partition and collapsing on the floor at Hux's feet. General Hux yelled out, tripping backwards and landing flat on his back on one of the platforms of the bridge. He choked with the wind knocked out of him and tried to scurry backwards down the ramp and out of the bridge all together. But that was when a mechanical laugh roared out of Kylo Ren's helmet, and he pulled himself to sitting on the floor, head back as he laughed even louder.

You ran out from behind the partition, finger pointed at Hux as you cackled alongside Kylo Ren. There were tears in your eyes as you snorted laughing at the look on Hux's face. He was so pale and shocked, mouth held slightly open and hair falling from its perfect coif. He glanced from you to Ren to Graem, who was also pulling himself off the floor and patting the dust off of his tabard.

“That went rather well,” Graem commented. He tore his helmet from his face and tossed it to you. Then he ran his fingers through his hair to fluff it up.

Hux looked up at him with daggers in his icy eyes, ready to kill the man. “Do you mean to tell me that this was your idea of a _joke_?” he growled.

Graem shook his head. “Not _my_ idea. Theirs.” He pointed over at you and Kylo Ren, and Hux kicked at Ren, knocking him over so that Kylo was on his back, hands clutched over his stomach as he continued his mechanically altered cackle.

“You son of a bitch!” Hux spat, kicking him again. “And _you_ ,” he roared in your direction. “You would dare to betray what little trust I've built in you by staging this... this elaborate prank?”

You sauntered over to him as the Troopers started to get up from their places on the floor, and you knelt before him so that you could see eye to eye. “General, this isn't about trust. This is about your opinion of me.” You nodded in Kylo Ren's direction. “I found out some valuable information, and now I'm playing with it.”

Hux took in a sputtering breath, and his eyes went wide. He slowly looked over at Ren, his lips pulling back into a grimace. “You _told her?_ ”

Kylo stood up, finally controlling his laughter. “Would you have expected any different?”

Hux stood up, no longer spitting with rage but nervous, his face turning as red as his hair. “You...” He glanced over at you and could tell by a single glance of your grin that you knew everything. Absolutely everything that he had tried to hide as you followed behind him. All of the feelings that he shoved aside whilst pretending to despise you, hate your guts, want to strangle you. Except when he thought of his hands around your neck, it wasn't to squeeze the life from you but to pull you closer. And as the thought ran through his head, he turned and marched his way out of the bridge with a steely determination. He would craft his revenge, so help him.

But not before facing more and more pranks that you and Kylo Ren had already lined up.

* * *

 

Kylo Ren had assigned Alma to watch after Hux the next day, which was a welcome relief for the general who believed that Alma would be too serious to join in on any pranks against him. And he was correct; she _was_ too serious. But that did _not_ mean that she wouldn't be willing to walk him to the location of the next prank and watch it unfold before her. This wasn't below her. And besides, she would obey any command given by Kylo Ren. If he asked for her to bring General Hux to his quarters at a specific time, she would comply.

So at precisely 7:30 in the evening, Alma led Hux back to his quarters to check on Millicent, and then she followed behind him as he opened the door and switched on the lights.

Except that when he switched on the lights, he stood stalk still in the centre of his living room, mouth falling open as he looked around. Every single piece of furniture had been flipped upside down. Couch. Chairs. Tables. Paintings. All of it had been flipped. He moved forward, fingers clenched into fists as he knew _exactly_ who was responsible. Venturing to his bedroom, he found the same thing. His bed was flipped. Desk flipped. Lamp upside down. Somehow, even the black crepe curtains over his bedroom's viewport had been reinstalled so that the curtain bar was on the bottom of the viewport. Groaning, he continued on through his quarters. Those bastards had even uninstalled his sink and turned it upside down, leaving an ever growing puddle of water on the floor.

He roared out, marching back over to Alma who stood in the doorway with Kylo Ren and you directly behind her.

“We redecorated,” you stated nonchalantly.

“I see that,” he hissed. Hux glared in your direction and pointed at the mess of his quarters. “And are you going to put it back into place?”

“We will consider it,” Ren answered.

“That was a rhetorical question, Ren.” Hux walked over to his couch and pushed against it, turning it onto its side and then back into position. Then he flipped several leather chairs and the coffee table. Glancing up, he expected to glare at the three of you until you came to his aid, but when he looked at the doorway, all of you were gone.

“Damn it!” he shouted, and you could hear his voice echo as you ran down the hall, snickering all the way.

* * *

 

General Hux didn't allow the knights to accompany him the next day but instead spent every moment in the presence of Captain Phasma. So help him, he wouldn't be caught in your traps _today_. He sneered as he walked past you in the halls, willing himself to hate you, but you made no effort to hide the smug look on your face. It felt so good to get underneath his skin. Even if you didn't have anything planned for today, just knowing that you had him on edge was enough to make you smile.

And so it was actually a pleasant surprise when you saw General Hux frantically running at full speed down the hallway later in the day, Captain Phasma following behind him at a leisurely pace. You pulled her aside as Hux continued running and raised an eyebrow.

“Where's he going?” you asked, watching him turn down another hall.

Phasma removed her helmet, and the smallest smile tugged at her thin lips. “I told him that there was a gas leak in the captain's and general's quarters.”

“ _Is there_ a leak?”

“No. But Ren had the idea, and I was mildly interested in seeing the results.”

“So you lied to him?”

“I suppose I did.”

You nodded your head, hands on your hips. “Well, bless you, Phasma. Good to know we have another team player.”

She smiled fully as she placed her helmet back over her head, and Hux ran back up the hallway toward both of you. The second that he saw you beside Phasma, he cursed out, punching the side of his fist against the wall as he leaned over to catch his breath.

“I should have known,” he panted.

“You just keep falling for this shit. It's hard not to push our luck,” you replied.

“I have absolutely no feelings for you other than loathing, and yet you continue these childish games!”

You threw a bitter laugh his way. “Not according to Ren's observations. He told me all about what you think of me. And for some reason, it would just seem that the more I throw your way, the more obsessed you get.”

“The same could be said of your behaviour,” he spat back. He stepped closer, his finger pointed at your face as he snarled like a wolf ready to rip apart its prey. His voice grew dark, low. “You are no different than I.”

You frowned and jutted your hip to the side. “Sorry, but I'm not obsessed with you. I actually have standards.”

He was still mildly out of breath as he glared at you, but a look of raw determination was in his eyes. “Tomorrow. Either I seek my revenge against you, or I die trying.”

“Well, hopefully you won't be planning something big enough to kill you. I already saved your ass once. Don't let it be in vain.”

He scoffed and turned around with Phasma following directly behind him, and all you could do was snort out a laugh as he shoved past a Trooper and disappeared from sight.

* * *

 

You awoke the next morning with Kylo Ren once again banging at your door. Today's idea concerned either shaving all of Millicent's fur save for her head so that she looked like a lion or placing bleach into his shampoo, though neither of you had decided firmly on which route to take. You answered the door to see Ren looking slightly more agitated than he had over the past few days, which was to say that he was back to his _normal_ levels of agitation.

“What is it?” you asked, immediately feeling as though today's prank was less likely to occur.

“He wants _you_ to accompany him today.”

You frowned. “Wasn't Phasma supposed to again?”

“Apparently, he has requested _your_ presence.”

Groaning, you pulled a black sweater over your tank-top and tugged on some loose trousers. “Damn it. He said yesterday that he plans on getting his revenge on me. I'm sure this is gonna be a shit show.”

“Most likely,” Ren replied. “Should we still continue with one of our plans for today?”

“No, no. Let me see what in the hell Hux's planning first.” It would be no use to prank him as he was setting up his own prank; there would simply be too much chaos.

You groaned as you made your way to Hux's private quarters and waited outside of the door. Hitting at the intercom beside his door left you with no answer, and you leaned against the doorway with arms folded and a sour attitude. It was several more minutes before his door slid open, and he stood in his all black and great coat before you.

“I heard you wanted _me_ today?” you hummed.

“Yes. It was a specific request.”

His eyes were narrowed at you, but he looked proud with his posture so straight and coat resting gently on his shoulders. He had a way of looking down his nose at you to make you feel insignificant, and it was almost as though he was pretending that the last several days of shenanigans hadn't occurred. Was he trying to convince you that his ego hadn't been damaged? Maybe. That or he had something up his sleeve. It was difficult to tell.

“So, why me?” you asked as both of you made your way down the hall.

“Simple,” he replied after a moment, and he slowed down before the flight of stairs that would lead to a central hallway. “To prove to you that I feel absolutely nothing for you.”

“You're a liar.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. Otherwise, you wouldn't be trying so damned hard.”

He seemed to think about this for a moment, his fingers against his chin as he peered to the side. “Or perhaps it's my goal to scare you enough to end this petty war.”

And all at once, Hux stepped forward and grabbed hold of either side of your face, and in the blink of an eye, his lips were on yours. He backed you into the metal wall with his eyes closed, and his grip at your jaw became stronger, more sure of himself. And all the while your eyes were wide opened and hands held out on either side as you tried to figure out what in the hell was going on.

You hadn't seen this coming. Not at all. Not for a _single second_ until his lips had been on yours. And in that moment, it felt like ten million thoughts had ripped through your head. Your first instinct was to attack. Snap his neck, break his wrists, throw him to the ground. But then the second instinct came to play. It was the nearly immediate flinch that said not to touch. He was no different from someone who owned you, and even if you fought him with words, you were absolutely not to touch him. Not to attack. And so you kept your hands still in the air, not knowing what to do as he kissed you further, his tongue slipping between your lips.

The strangest sensation rolled through your stomach as his hand slipped from your jaw to your cheek. It was like butterflies and thunder clenching through your abdomen and falling down to the floor, and you had never felt anything quite like it. But even though it was unfamiliar, it was... _good_. It felt right. It felt desirable.

That's when the third and final instinct coursed through you to take hold. It said to relax. You felt each of the tightened muscles in your body ease as your hands lowered onto his shoulders, and you closed your eyes. You didn't know what this was, what this meant, but in that moment, you realised that you didn't care. The feeling of your heart beating against your ribcage and the greediness that flooded your veins made you finally kiss him back. This was no longer something one sided but a tug of war. It was the continuation of the pranks and harassment and spiteful words but in a new battle. He was a wolf, and you were a lioness, and you were both attacking in a whole new form.

You let your hands move to the back of his neck, and your fingers twisted into his hair, tugging ever so slightly as you leaned into him. You wanted more. More and more and more and more of him, and it didn't make any sense at all. You just knew that it was what you wanted, and damn it, you would take it.

The only problem was that this was _definitely_ not what General Hux had anticipated. He had fully expected you to slap him or run away the moment that his lips touched yours—not squirm and then give into the kiss. He had meant to scare you. To shock you. And maybe he had succeeded at both, but you weren't supposed to kiss him back! _This was not supposed to happen!_ You weren't supposed to have your fingers running through his hair and leg twisting around his! This entire plan was backfiring spectacularly before him, and Hux pulled away from you.

His face was flushed red, light eyes dilated and nervous.

“This wasn't my intention,” he whispered. His hands were still holding onto your face, a thumb pressed against your bottom lip as he started to tremble. You wanted to reach forward and close in the space again—wanted to feel his lips back on yours instead of the cold air. He backed up, his hands slipping away from you. “I should leave.”

Before you could think of anything to say, he was running up the staircase and down the hall, leaving you standing against the wall with your fingers up against your lips. You could still taste him. Still smell him on the air. And yet you stood there questioning whether or not the past minute had truly happened. Had you really just been kissed by General Hux? And had you really kissed him back and enjoyed it? What in all of the galaxies was happening?

You slowly walked forward with your hand still held over your lips and the other fumbling for the stair railing. The world around you seemed to slow, to grow quiet as you only heard the echo of your beating heart and felt the ghostly imprints of his hands. This hadn't been his intention. And it hadn't been yours. You swallowed nervously as you reached the top of the stairs and could just see him at the end of the hall, his black coat flowing behind him as he walked as quickly as possible from you. You stared forward in shock, trying to understand everything.

It had never been your intention to fall for the most powerful general of the First Order, but so it happened to be.

* * *

 

 **A/N:** The majority of this chapter was basically crack, and I'm not apologising for it.


	11. A Personal Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still reeling from your encounter with General Hux, you seek answers to explain his behaviour and only fall further down the rabbit hole.

 

**Chapter Playlist:** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CQ5CPWKEKLw&list=PL0PGmOE0Guha03tR_iPk620ynacz_Kkbb)

* * *

 

_BAM!_

Your fist hit dead centre against a punching bag in the training room, rocking it back for a few seconds before it came swinging toward you to punch once more. You grunted with the effort expelled at punching it again, noting how the sweat was dripping from your arm. Teeth grinding together, you continued to hit and punch. For how long you had been here, beating the shit out of a bag full of sand, you weren't quite sure. Maybe it had been an hour if your burning muscles were any indication.

Alma had showed up in the training room ten minutes before and sat cross legged on the floor, watching as you continued to wear yourself out. She seemed mildly curious but didn't say a word. If she had really wanted to, Alma could have dove inside your head just like Kylo Ren, but she chose to let you work out the energy rather than go digging for information. Besides, you were a loud mouth. You'd reveal whatever it was in time.

You had sent a comm to Kylo several hours before as you stood at the top of the staircase and watched General Hux leave you. Refusing to divulge any explanation, you had told him to keep an eye on Hux, because you sure as hell weren't going to be able to today. When he had inquired about continuing your prank, you had hissed out a 'no' and then thrown the comm down the stairs so that it shattered against the metal floor.

Out of breath and panting, you landed one last punch against the bag and then sunk down to the floor, leaning your head against the bottom of the bag that was still vibrating with the force of your punches.

“I really hate him,” you mumbled whilst catching your breath.

Alma raised a thin eyebrow your way but made no movement. Her chin was resting in her palm, and she appeared exhausted, with purple rings hanging under her eyes and lips too pale against her brown skin.

“I take it that your days of childish pranks are over?” she asked.

“Yeah. They are.”

You leaned back against the mats of the training room, letting your sweaty back press against the cold plastic. Your mind still wouldn't let go of that kiss. It repeated over and again as you analysed each little movement he made and word of your conversation. Even now, you thought that you could feel the minute traces of him on your lips, and it infuriated you that, beyond anything else, you wanted _more_. Another kiss. Another glance at the sharp features of his face. Another chance to feel his cold skin beneath your fingertips. Why did you feel this? This had never happened before, and _stars_ , it was driving you crazy.

“He's avoiding me,” you hissed with eyes closed. You had tried to approach him on the bridge before coming to the training room, but Hux had refused to make eye-contact. He acted as though you were a ghost that he could walk through without any indication that you had ever existed.

“I would most likely avoid you as well if you had spent the past four days making my life miserable,” Alma replied. Her voice was quiet as usual but still authoritative, harsh. It was a strange mixture that made her sound like an immortal being within a tiny child—powerful but with a veneer of frailty.

“It's not even because of that,” you groaned. “He... He fucked up, and then I fucked up even worse, and now we both hate everything.”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” Alma whispered. Her eyes were closed now as she sank into meditation. “Resolve it before you return for training. I don't want to see you distracted.”

Well, that was going to be difficult, because this was a _major_ distraction. But you sighed and lifted yourself off the mats to wander back to your quarters. You needed to clean yourself off and change into something that wasn't absolutely saturated in sweat. And so it was with sopping wet hair and a fresh outfit of all black that accompanied your journey back down the restricted hallways of the _Finalizer_ and to General Hux's private quarters.

You hit at the intercom lazily, waiting for it to beep so that you could speak over the system.

“Hux, I know you're in here. Phasma told me you would be. Open up.”

There was no response.

“I swear, you're going to have to face me or else stay locked in there forever.”

Still nothing.

“I'm sorry that I flipped all of your furniture... And had everyone play dead in the bridge. Now open up.”

You leaned your head against the door and continuously pressed the intercom button until finally the door slid open, and you fell forward a few inches. Standing a few paces in front of you was General Hux, his uniform now off for the evening and a light grey sweater rolled up to his elbows. His hair wasn't in its usual, slicked back style but hanging loosely over his forehead as it finished drying from a shower. He glared at you with those sea-glass eyes, looking like an entirely different person than you had previously witnessed. It was such a simple change, really. His hair unkempt. Uniform off. But he seemed instantly younger. More vulnerable.

He looked... _more human_.

You stepped inside, not bothering to say some smart-mouthed greeting. The door slid closed behind you, and you stood there for a moment with your arms folded over your chest as Millicent brushed up against your legs.

“You can't avoid me... _this_... forever,” you sighed.

Hux rolled his eyes and leaned against his kitchen table, sitting on the edge with his bare feet on the seat of a chair. Millicent jumped up onto the table beside him, sitting down to watch both of you with her round, golden eyes.

“Could you have at least given me a _few_ _days_ to avoid you rather than twelve hours?” Hux asked.

You shook your head. “No. You're going to tell me what in the hell this is all about. You're going to be honest with me.”

He sighed and looked across the room as he spoke, managing to always avoid your eyes. “I've tried to hate you,” he began. “And at first, I truly did. I loathed the very thought of you. It shouldn't be surprising that I take threats against my life quite seriously, and the fact that you would _laugh_ as you were being interrogated... That you would laugh about the possibility of my death... It added salt to the wound. Whether or not you would like to admit as much, I _am_ powerful. I have cut more throats to get to this position than you would ever realise, and anything that would threaten me usually finds itself quickly eliminated.”

You crossed the room to your right and sat upon the armrest of his leather couch, about ten feet away from him, but never broke eye-contact as he spoke.

“And then your teasing—your incessant mocking. It drives me mad. _No one_ speaks to me in such a way. No one but Ren, and he doesn't count, because I have no control over that mess of a human being. So here you come, entering forcefully into my life, being kept alive to spite me, then digging the knife in even further as you never shut up with calling me weak or insulting my actions. You're truly the most infuriating person that I have ever had the misfortune of meeting.”

“This doesn't explain the part where you got a crush on me,” you commented.

His eyes lifted up to meet yours, and he frowned. “You have infuriated me like no one else before, and because of that, you have never left my mind for over two months. Each and every time that you spoke, I tried to convince you that you were wrong about me. Through my every behaviour, through my authority... It became some kind of... objective... some kind of goal to make you see the truth.”

You rolled your eyes. “You've been trying for over two months to get me to take you seriously? Well, you've done a shit job of it, because I still don't.”

“WHY?” he roared, standing up and crossing over to you. “Do you have any idea of how confusing this has been? _Everyone_ fears me! _Everyone_ obeys me! And then there's _you_. _You_ , who manages to take nothing at all seriously, who looks at me without any of the panic to which I am so accustomed. Why?! What makes you so different?”

He stood above you with his arm propped against the back of the couch so that he was only a few inches away, and you pressed into his personal space so that he would back up.

“Why?” you responded, growing more angry by the second. “ _Why?_ Because there's only one person in this galaxy that I fear, and he isn't you. I've lived with a hell of a lot more fear than you could ever imagine, and this is the first time in my entire damned life that I feel free. I feel comfortable. Safe. I feel like someone isn't going to constantly kill me for the slightest mistake or just because he's fucking angry and wants to take it out on someone! _That's_ why I don't fear you!

“I don't fear you because on a scale of comparison with Raph, you don't even land on the charts! You aren't a manic psychopath whose only goal in life is to hurt me and own me and make me do whatever he says while laughing about my pain. You do similar shit, but it's not for the same reasons. You don't just go and hurt people because you think it's fun. You have reasons for what you do. You have goals. You have rules. And that's what really matters, Hux. You're an asshole, but you're not him. You're not capable of being him or anything close to him no matter how hard you try. And so I will _never_ fear you.

“Is that good enough? Is that what you wanted to know? Because that's the truth, Hux.”

You were seething mad, your chest rising with each deep breath as Hux stared down at you. His thick eyebrows were drawn together, and he almost looked sad. You weren't sure if he was capable of empathy, but if so, then it was the emotion that laced his face. Slowly, he reached forward to bring his hand to your face, and you flinched back for a moment.

“You don't like to be touched,” he said, noting your reaction. He thought back to the time when he had grabbed your wrist and seen you panic and then to how you had reacted upon him kissing you that morning. “It's because of him, isn't it?”

You nodded. “We had two rules on board. One, you could say whatever you wanted about his methods, but you never disobeyed an order. And two, you _never_ touched Raph. If someone even accidentally laid a finger on him, he'd shoot them out of an airlock. I learned pretty damn quickly that he could hurt _me_ , but I could never hurt _him_.”

Hux's hand was still against the side of your face, his thumb rubbing along your cheekbone as you spoke. His fingers were so cold, and you expected his eyes to match, but when you looked up, he only appeared sympathetic. Those normally icy eyes had melted to warm water.

“I don't like that I like you,” you whispered. Your throat was starting to feel raw, and you despised the feeling—that feeling that came right before you were going to cry. But you hadn't cried in so long. Why was _he_ bringing all of this out of you?

“I don't either,” he said.

“Because I like making fun of you, and I like seeing how pissed off you get at every little thing I do. I like seeing you frown and getting you flustered and making you stumble over your words because you're so angry. I like being mean to you, and I don't know what it means to also want to be around you. I don't know why I feel like this, and I really hate it.”

Hux merely nodded, feeling exactly the same way. “Ren says that I became obsessed with you... But I thought that I was only obsessed with trying to make you think better of me. Somehow, I failed to make you see me as _I_ see myself, and yet I still succeeded at that objective. It really doesn't make any sense.”

The hand that Hux had kept against the couch was now brought to the other side of your face, and you flinched once again. Even though he had moved slowly and you had watched the entire action, it still brought a spasm of fear to you.

“I wish that I still despised you,” he whispered. “It would make this all a lot easier.” Hux leaned forward so that his forehead was against your own, red hair damp against your skin.

You could feel the warmth radiating from his face in stark contrast to the ice of his fingertips. Slowly, you let your lips rest against his. It wasn't quite a kiss but just something gentle and unfamiliar and completely necessary in this moment. He let out a deep sigh and then kissed you fully. His fingers laced around the back of your head, tangling into your wet hair, and you felt yourself fall back onto the couch so that your knees were over the armrest and feet dangling in the air.

Hux was on top of you now, his body pressed against yours as he continued to kiss you. That same feeling of butterflies was coursing through your body, making your stomach feel as though it would fall out of your body. There was still no understanding what you were feeling; this was such a new experience after having spent the entirety of your adult life and teenage years being controlled. So being able to reach out and kiss someone without fear of repercussions was exhilarating.

Your fingers danced along his back before one hand settled in his hair and the other held onto his upper arm. You could feel the lean muscle beneath his sweater as he held himself above you. He seemed so much tinier without that giant coat and uniform. He was still tall, but you would have never known that he was so lanky. Still, your fingers couldn't stop running along the muscle of his arms. You slid your hand down his arm, from rolled up sweater to pale flesh. Goosebumps erupted over his skin, and you could feel his lips tug into a smile against your own.

“What do you think?” he whispered. “Do you take me seriously now?”

You scoffed and ran your fingers through his hair to ruffle it up. “Ha, absolutely not. I could break you like a toothpick.”

He frowned, but it was less of an angry thing and more of him just being absolutely done with your nonsense. He tried to pat down his hair whilst leaning against you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“So, not in the least bit?”

“Nope.”

“That is certainly a shame.”

You sighed and let your fingers run back up his arm and then down his spine until your hand could rest on the small of his back. You could feel the hem of his sweater at your fingertips, and you played with it, occasionally letting your fingers slip beneath the knitting so that you could feel his skin.

“What now?” you asked. “After I leave this room, are you going to go back to pretending to hate me? Ignoring me like earlier today? Making things more awkward than they already were whenever I'm shadowing you?”

Hux took in a deep breath, contemplating what you had said. His right hand was still against your face, thumb absent-mindedly stroking your bottom lip as he stared off. “I know perfectly well how to control myself in the presence of someone whom I find attractive.”

“You sure as hell didn't act like it _earlier_ today,” you laughed.

He rolled his eyes and gently moved off of you, rolling to the edge of the couch so that he could sit down. His fingers graced over his full lips as though he couldn't believe what he had just done, yet there was a satisfied smirk crossing his face. In that moment, he couldn't help but be proud of himself. You still may not have taken him seriously—still didn't view him as a powerful authoritarian worthy of praise and admiration, but this was still a success. A victory in a greater battle. And if there was anything that he was good at, it was war.

You pulled your legs from the armrest of the couch and sat sloppily beside him, one leg tucked under you as the other swung off the side of the couch.

“Then know this,” he finally answered. “Tomorrow, you will follow behind me again as my personal protection for Raph Niehaus's assassins. You will be my shadow. I will act no different than I have before, and no one will know of what has happened today. No one. Not even Ren nor his knights. Can you keep this a secret?”

You gave him a little chuckle, because this was so unsurprising. _Of course_ , he would want to keep this all private and secret. God-forbid anyone else knew that General Hux was off gallivanting with one of Ren's assassins. He side-eyed you, not enjoying that you would laugh, but he should have expected it by this point.

“Don't give me that look. I won't say anything.”

“Can I truly believe you?”

“Yes,” you groaned. “I keep my word, Hux.” Besides, even though you thought it was funny that he was so insecure about others knowing that you had kissed, you didn't necessarily want anyone else to know either. It was a complication that you just didn't need at the moment.

Hux nodded and stood up, rolling his shoulders back so that his posture was back to its regular uptight, pristine stance. He took in a deep breath and headed to the door, opening it and motioning that it was time for you to leave. With a jump in your step, you followed and stood for a moment in his doorway.

“I will see you at seven thirty in the morning,” he demanded.

“I'll be here.”

“And one more thing. You called me by my name repeatedly tonight... Don't forget that outside of this room, I'm still _General_. Do you understand?”

You cracked a smile, giving a sarcastic salute in his direction as you stepped out into the hallway. “Of course, _General_.”

* * *

 **A/N:** Ugh, I love these two idiots.


	12. An Exclusive Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bazine Netal fulfills her duties to the First Order but demands a high price for anything extra, leading Hux to begrudgingly give the Knights of Ren full control over killing several New Republic military officers. But just because he has relinquished his command of the Knights does not mean that he has given up on everything. Or everyone.

 

 **** **Chapter Playlist:** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pkQ4l-bhzok&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhaD2y18Kali4mgsEhnquJ5y)

* * *

 

It had been one week to the day from when General Hux had pushed you against a wall to kiss you as a form of intimidation. One week since you had confronted him. One week since you had found yourself beneath him on his leather couch as he kissed you greedily whilst still wishing that he could hate your guts.

General Hux had kept his word to not reveal a single detail of that day's events nor make any indication of awkwardness, and you had complied as well. But there were a _few_ things that you noticed in his behaviour that were different. Perhaps no one else would pick up on it, but you knew that he wasn't glaring as much toward you. When you teased him—which you did just as much as usual, because not hell nor high water was going to keep you from trying to crawl under his skin—he would scoff and let most of it roll off his shoulder as he continued with his daily routine. You still annoyed him but not _quite_ as much. And every now and then, you would watch as his lips twitched after a particularly sarcastic jab. After this had happened a few times, you realised that he was trying his damnedest not to smile at you, and that just made you feel all the more powerful than ever.

A solid week of following General Hux had still been a mixed experience, though. For one thing, it was exhausting to constantly be on guard for twelve hours straight each day. Every single noise set you off as a possible assassin could be near. Plus, you were mentally fatigued from the amount of meetings you had to follow him to. So much of the general's job was in organising political and military strategies with the captains, which made for a miserably boring experience.

Sometimes you would try to actually pay attention to the meetings since you had to attend them anyway. This would lead to one of two responses: increased boredom or frustration that every plan had to be so intricately crafted just to bring about the most minor of results. You kept wanting to butt in and tell the captains to just send in an assassin to kill someone and take their shit rather than slowly bleed this or that dignitary of their financial resources. They were so indirect!

“Question,” you stated as you followed Hux to another meeting. He groaned but indicated for you to continue. “If the First Order is so adamant about destroying the New Republic, why haven't you guys tried to... Oh, _I don't know_ , send in assassins to just kill the leaders you don't like? It's not that difficult.”

General Hux took in a deep breath, carefully controlled as he stared straight forward down the hall. “You have little understanding of what it is like to take down a herd of beasts rather than a single target. Your attempt at my life was proof enough of that.”

“In my defence, I would have definitely killed you if it was not for Ren.”

“Don't remind me,” Hux sighed. “I already have to meet with the man for an hour today. He's attending our next meeting.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “And what's this going to be about?” Usually Kylo Ren did not attend _any_ First Order functions unless they directly involved him, which most of them didn't.

Kylo Ren looked miserable as he sat in a chair that was, quite frankly, far too small for him at a table. Even with his helmet on, you could tell by his slumped posture alone that he didn't want to be there. A greeting to him was half way out of your mouth when you noticed who it was sitting across from him at the table, and you choked on your words.

Bazine Netal.

She was lounged in her chair, the heel of her boot against the edge of the table as she picked at her black fingernails. Bazine didn't even bother to look up as you and Hux entered the room.

“Those New Republic men you wished to see dead aren't all men, General,” she sneered as a greeting.

“I didn't pay you to find their gender, Netal.”

Hux sat at the head of the table so that he could see both Ren and Bazine at the same time, and you stood behind him, your back against the wall. Bazine glanced up at him and then you, her dark eyes lingering for a second as she placed your face, but then she was right back to business.

“No, you did not,” she replied. “You barely paid me at all. But I found what you were after.”

She slid an electronic file across the table, and he caught it under his fingertips. Placing the drive into a projector, it illuminated the opposing wall with the faces of four New Republic military officers and scrolling data about each of them. Two were older men, one a younger man, and one a middle-aged woman. Their portraits floated in the air as text continued to scroll behind them.

Bazine nodded toward the officers. “They are commanding the closest army. I saw it for myself.”

“And you didn't bother to kill them while you were at it?” Hux asked. Ren's helmet twitched in the general's direction, and you could only wonder what kind of warning glance he was giving him.

“No,” Bazine spat, her accent coming out strong as ever. “Because you do not pay me for such a task. Either increase my salary or remain content with the current work I do.”

Hux's lips were pursed, his fingers drumming against the table. You knew well enough from the past week of meetings that giving her more money wasn't an option considering the current economic crisis within the First Order. The funds simply weren't there with bigger projects at hand. And Bazine wasn't cheap, either. You knew that from overhearing Raph speak about her prices. If you wanted the best spy and killer in the system, then you had to pay for it.

“Then tell me this,” Hux began. “Do you believe that with this information you have provided that our own forces will be able to eliminate them?”

Bazine's dark eyes lingered on his for a moment and then dashed over to yours, and it was to you she answered. “You have the resources. I do not see why not.”

Hux followed her gaze, looking over his shoulder at you. His eyebrows pulled together for a moment, and he turned back to Bazine. “I take it that the two of you have met before?”

She gave the slightest nod of her head and looked over to Ren. “The rumour is you stole her from Raph Niehaus.” Bazine looked back to her nails with complete nonchalance. “He placed a hit on her head and both of yours because of it.”

Your eyes twitched, anxiety rising. Obviously, Bazine didn't care about your fate as she sat there, giving a shrug every now and then and paying more attention to her own beauty. But for you, this was a moment of terror. Raph usually took care of his own problems. Setting a price on your head meant that he was desperate. He wanted to see you dead, and he wanted to see it _now_.

Hux leaned forward, arms resting on the table. “We have already intercepted one of his attacks with ease.”

 _We_. It had been _you_ who had intercepted one of Raph's assassins, but you didn't say anything. The nervous lump in your throat kept your mouth closed anyway.

“There will be more,” she said. “I'm sure you are not concerned, though, Ren?”

“Not in the slightest.”

She cracked a smile. “You never surprise me.”

Ren's voice was low—just a quiet rumble from beneath his helmet. “Has anything _ever_ surprised you, Netal?”

“Not in memory.”

Bazine sat up in her seat, pulling her foot from the table and looking more dignified—more deadly as she continued to smile toward Ren. But as her gaze shifted to Hux, the smile sank into a grimace. “Anyway... I take it this information is enough for you?”

Hux sat up as well. “It will do. I will leave their deaths to the First Order... perhaps to Ren's knights to avoid knowledge of the Order's involvement. We will remain in contact.”

She stood, passing behind Ren and stopping before you for just a moment. Her eyes took you in, slowly scanning down your body, and then a cold smile flickered back onto her face. “What was it I said to you?” she asked, and you could recall seeing her leave Raph's lounge and look down at you and Anna in the hallway. “A dead woman? I am still correct. I would hold your detached head in my hand if I was not already contracted by the First Order. If I ever fall short of credits, perhaps I will deliver you to Raph.”

Your mouth was dry and stomach acid burning your throat as you replied. “Yet here I am.”

“Not for long.” And then she left the room, her white and black patterned dress fluttering behind her.

Hux remained seated and staring forward toward the hologram portraits, but you knew that he had heard the brief exchange. Bazine hadn't necessarily been subtle in her threat against your life.

Kylo Ren stood at that moment, his hands gripping the table. “Volunteering my knights for your own purposes once again?”

“It was an _idea_ \--”

“No, no,” Ren interrupted sarcastically, crossing over to Hux so that he could lean over the general and make him feel as small possible. “Use my knights. Send them after your enemies to do the work that is so below you.” He was livid and just barely controlling himself. You watched as his fingers moved to his lightsabre, itching to ignite it and strike in his anger.

But Hux narrowed his eyes toward him, voice full of venom. “I have more important things to worry about than your complaints.”

Ren leaned forward. The sarcasm had left his speech to reveal just how angry he was that his knights would fall under Hux's control once again. “The next time that you think to over-step your authority, I _will_ be your greatest worry.”

“Is that a threat, Ren?”

“Blame Netal; she set the stage for threats at this meeting.”

Hux cringed and then pointed toward the door with an expression of burning fury. If he could have killed the knight with a glance, then Ren would have died ten times over in the span of seconds. Kylo Ren held his ground for a moment more but then left in a hurry without another word, his fingers now ripping the lightsabre from his belt so that he could destroy the nearest control panel in the hallway.

“It would be wise to not speak with Netal, even in the limited capacity that you just did,” Hux said after a minute of polarised silence. His elbows were resting on the table with fingers laced together so that he could rest his chin and keep watching the data being projected on the far wall.

You left your spot against the wall and sat on the edge of the table beside him so that you were facing one another at a diagonal. His eyes met yours for a second, but then he was staring forward again as he spoke. “The less that she knows about you, the better. Especially if she remains in contact with Raph. There is already enough gossip about you in the First Order; we don't need outsiders to have additional information.”

“Gossip?” That was new.

Hux finally tore his gaze from the projector and shifted his arms so that he could rest his chin against his fist. “Do you really believe that your skills had gone unnoticed among the First Order? People may whisper, but word still travels fast. I've heard more than one captain question why it is that _you_ , a former enemy assassin attempting to take my life, would now be allowed to shadow even my most private meetings. Not everyone approves, and not everyone wants to see you here, though they would never say such a thing to our faces. Still, step lightly and speak sparingly.”

Your head was cocked to the side, hair loose and falling over your shoulder as you looked down at him. The warning was welcomed—the same as Anna's had been. But there was something protective about the way that he was warning you. It wasn't just a heads up that dangerous people knew who you were but a statement of concern. And to be honest, you were kind of... _flattered_. Normally, people didn't care much about your safety. Either you would make it on your own or natural selection would do its work, so it felt good to have someone watching your back.

“Thanks.” Your hand reached forward, wanting to touch against his fingers, but you pulled them back. There was already so little distance between both of you, and you wanted to close it in, but at the same time, you didn't know exactly what to do or what would be appropriate. Your eyes kept staring into his, and you bit at your bottom lip before turning away and scooting off of the table.

A strange sense of panic made you want to run out of the door and follow behind Ren or go to the training room or board a ship and kill a few people—pretty much anything that wasn't you and Hux in silence being so close when you were trying to process the fact that he actually cared about your life. This was bizarre and uncomfortable and completely new, but you tried to destroy the anxiety—tried to not think about him. Not think about whatever this ridiculous feeling was that kept twisting inside of you and telling you to step back over to him. Not think about anything at all.

Hux sighed as he crossed over to you, and his finger moved to beneath your chin. You flinched, breath pulling in at the feeling of the cool leather of his glove so close to your throat. He studied you for a moment and then let his finger drop. Plucking the information drive from the projector, the hologram sputtered off as Hux made his way out of the room as though nothing at all had just occurred.

* * *

 

Hauling a heavy backpack over your shoulder, you climbed the entrance ramp to Kylo Ren's private ship along with several of the knights who had been waiting below. Ren was already inside, helmet off and brooding as he sat beside Alma in the ship's main lounge. Try as he might to deny it, killing the four officers of the New Republic was just as much in his interests as it was for General Hux. But _damn the man_ , Ren was still livid that Hux had volunteered his knights once again. This shouldn't have been their duty. Ren would have to carry a long conversation with Snoke after all was said and done to see if the Supreme Leader would be willing to intervene, though he rather doubted that Snoke would. Hux seemed to get by with more and more of this type of behaviour.

Ren barely acknowledged your entrance, and the knights behind you—Clees, Kelakh, and Graem—were equally as mute. It was only after you had dropped your backpack and started to dig through it for a sweater that Ren spoke.

“I'm not used to seeing you separated from the General,” he mumbled.

You glanced up, frowning. Without there having been an attack in a while, Hux felt reasonably safe staying with Captain Phasma and sending you with Ren to kill the New Republic officers, but you weren't as happy about the idea. It wasn't that Captain Phasma wasn't well qualified to protect him, but she wasn't _you_. _You_ who knew exactly what to anticipate if something was to go wrong— _y_ _ou_ who had grown so accustomed to following around General Hux over the past few weeks that to not do so felt wrong.

“It's a little different,” you replied, but Ren didn't respond how you would have expected. Suddenly, his face fell, lips pulling back over his teeth as though he were ready to growl at the entrance of the ship. You looked over your shoulder to see none other than General Hux, his great coat upon his shoulders and a black cap over his well kept hair.

He stepped on board with two Troopers following directly behind and narrowed his eyes toward Ren, who was already standing up to directly face the general.

“Are you here to further disrupt the power structure of my knights or just simply to gloat that we're doing your bidding?” Ren hissed. He was only a few inches away from Hux, his broad chest heaving and hands balled into fists.

Hux made a display of slowly crossing his arms and lifting his chin to appear just slightly taller. “Neither. But perhaps you would prefer those options after learning that I plan to join you on this mission.”

Ren's dark eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

The knights seemed equally as confused by the general's statement, and you noticed Kelakh and Clees exchange a moment of worried eye-contact. Ren stepped just a little closer to Hux and held out a hand toward his temples, instantly soaring into Hux's mind. Teeth grinding, he bore through the torture of Ren sliding into his brain and punching through the walls of thoughts until he found what he wanted.

You watched from just a step away, wondering how this particular power-play would manifest, but before you could say something or intervene, Ren pulled away.

“Never mind,” he scoffed. “ _That's_ why.”

Hux was glaring daggers at Ren, and a chilled nervousness was rolling over his features to sink into his skin and radiate in the air around him. “Satisfied?” he spat whilst shoving past Ren and making his way toward the cockpit to give a few commands.

Kylo Ren took in a deep breath and locked eyes with you for just a few seconds, and you knew without a doubt that he was fully aware of everything that had happened between you and General Hux. The extent of the relationship, the mutual tension and pining, was now in Kylo Ren's mind as though the memories had been his own to witness. You stood there as the ship's ramp closed, not sure whether to find it comical that Hux's secret was now out or whether you should be as stony-faced and serious as the rest of them. Maybe it would have been easier to decide if Ren's face hadn't been so difficult to read. Certainly, he was amused, but then there was an equal amount of bitterness that clung to his eyes. He sighed as he went to follow General Hux. Apparently, the conversation between them wasn't over.

Motioning for the Troopers to leave the cockpit, Ren cornered Hux inside and blocked the doorway.

“Does the word _'fraternisation'_ mean anything to you, _General?_ ” Ren sneared, his voice low and threatening.

Hux rolled his eyes. He didn't have time for this; the ship needed to leave _now_. “She's technically not a part of the First Order,” he spat back. “She falls under the knights' jurisdiction.”

This didn't go over well for Kylo Ren. “Which, lately, have fallen under _your_ jurisdiction with the amount that you seem to believe that you can command _my_ knights. So that places you in an interesting position. If you want to pretend that the knights are yours, then you will have to treat her like an employee of the First Order and end whatever it is that you see happening. Or, you can consider the knights to be their own separate entity from the First Order and continue your little affair. Take your pick.”

The last thing that General Hux appreciated was being told that he had to make such an exclusive decision—especially one that he hadn't been able to craft on his own. Glaring, he tried to push past Ren, but couldn't force him out of the way.

“ _Move_ , Ren. We will discuss this at another time.”

“No. We won't. You will choose, and you will do so now. There is an obviously correct way to deal with this. Give me back my knights--”

“--You _do_ realise what this means for your assassin if I should choose to accept the knights as being separate from the First Order?” Hux's eyes glanced to the sliver of a view behind Kylo Ren, his eyes lingering on you for a moment.

Ren followed his line of sight and groaned. “It means that she obeys my orders as an assassin. What she does on her own time is not my concern.”

Hux thought for a moment, the features of his face growing sharper as he frowned. Was he willing to lose access to Ren's knights? All for the sake of someone whom he still wasn't one hundred percent sure he didn't want to throttle? He looked back over to where you were seated, speaking with Clees and Kelakh with no idea of the gravity of the conversation just out of earshot. He swallowed nervously, feeling how tight his uniform was against his throat, and you turned at that moment, eyes locking with his own.

You didn't know what they were talking about in there—with Kylo Ren blocking the exit of the cockpit and General Hux continuously glancing in your direction—but you knew that it was something of importance. Neither of them would look so determined and enraged if that wasn't the case. You watched as Hux seemed to acquiesce to Kylo Ren, giving a nod but then pointing a finger toward him as though to leave a final threat. Then Ren moved aside, allowing Hux to finally leave the cockpit and march his way past the lounge and down the narrow hallway of the ship where he could be left completely alone.


	13. Prove Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Hux and Graem join you on a team to kill two of the New Republic captains who are wanted dead by the First Order, and you are fairly certain that Hux is only joining along so that he can win over your respect.

 

 **** **Chapter Playlist:** [ Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H5NqIsnyTG8&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhY4ee_chbLE2oG0XBc62c9d)

* * *

 

 

New Republic-owned Planet-6482 had never been officially settled since its discovery, though that hadn't stopped it from becoming an occasionally used military base. A small staff of New Republic officers maintained the base, using it to its full capacity twice per year for special military drills along the planet's massive shoreline. Planet-6482 was almost completely covered in dull, blue-grey oceans with rocky islands poking out of the water to break the tides. The few larger islands rose high into the air upon massive, white-walled cliffs, revealing long expanses of sandy beach during low tide. Mist and fog hung in the air, keeping the planet a dim grey and always cool and humid. And it was upon this planet that Kylo Ren's private ship landed on a discrete patch of beach.

Condensation covered the viewports of his ship, but you could just make out the massive cliff to one side of the ship and the grey ocean to the other. A controlled cough from directly behind you tore your attention from the viewport, and you raised an eyebrow toward General Hux. It was the first time that you had seen him since having left the  _Finalizer—_ since he had been arguing with Kylo Ren.

“What is it that you have heard from Ren concerning today's mission?” he asked whilst adjusting his cap over his meticulously styled hair.

“Maybe if you two didn't storm off like man-babies after arguing, you would have been in the lounge when he plugged in Bazine's info drive.”

Hux stared forward for a moment, pulling in a deep breath to keep from snapping at you. “I already viewed her information; I'm asking if Ren has put it to any use or if he is sending us blindly to our deaths?”

Rolling your eyes, you led him over to the info drive and plugged it into a small hologram projector by a set of chairs so that you could point your finger along to different details.

“Okay, so we landed with a radar silencer, which apparently is gonna just be helped further by being parked on the beach because the military radar doesn't scan any shorelines. Which sounds incredibly fucking stupid, if you ask me—which no one did—but it's something to do with large sea creatures showing up on the radar so often that they don't bother. Anyway, though, we were planning on heading up the cliffs and basically just storming the place.”

Hux looked at you in mild confusion. “You can't seriously expect that to work, and when you say  _we_ , who do you mean?”

You pointed at yourself. “Me and the knights. Ren plans to follow behind if he's needed, but supposedly he isn't too fond of being recognised by the New Republic.”

“And what about myself?”

“ _You?_ ” you asked, narrowing your eyes toward him. Surely Hux didn't think that  _he_ would be joining the knights. “We thought you'd stay on the ship.”

“Absolutely not,” he corrected. “I intend to join you.”

“That's... A really stupid idea, but okay.  Sure.  _Why not?_ ” You raised your hands into the air. If he had a death wish, then so be it. “Anyway then, there are several training camps for their standard military about two kilometres from the cliffs, and they aren't fully stationed right now. According to Bazine, training exercises start in two weeks, and the time leading up to that is being used by the higher up officers and captains and whatnot to plan things out. So we're going to go blow up a few buildings, kill whoever shows up—just generally cause some chaos before the place swarms with all the lower ranking officers  next week . If Bazine's calculations are correct, then all the captains we're after will be in meetings throughout this afternoon, so they should be caught unaware. And even if they  _are_ prepared, security is low, and we're more skilled. Make sense?”

Hux shook his head. “There is a lack of proper planning here that astounds me.”

“We have Force-sensitive knights and a ridiculously skilled assassin,” you said whilst pointing cockily to yourself. “We don't really  _have_ to plan things out the same way you would if you were sending in a gaggle of Troopers.”

“Watch yourself to not speak ill of my Troopers. And speaking of which, shouldn't the Troopers join us?” he asked, but before you could even make a decision, Kylo Ren's low voice interrupted as he entered the ship's lounge.

“Truly, General, are you a moron? Our original idea of having Netal kill them was so that these deaths wouldn't be connected to the First Order. Sending along your Troopers would be a dead give away; even your uniform reveals too much information.”

Hux glanced down at his usual dark-grey uniform with the First Order insignia stitched to the left sleeve. As much as he despised Ren, the man was correct. Glaring, General Hux slowly placed his coat upon an empty chair and then began to remove the overshirt of his uniform so that he was just wearing a discreet, black undershirt. Last, the removed his cap, setting it on the coat as a few locks of his hair fell forward over his forehead.

Kylo Ren looked simultaneously bored and frustrated to tears and scoffed before leaving to speak with his knights who were emerging from the ship's meeting room.

General Hux was grinding his teeth, eyes still focused upon the narrow hallway that Ren had walked down. “I'm not pleased with this situation,” he spat like venom.

You rolled your eyes and motioned for Hux to follow you to the now opening entrance ramp of the ship. Already, you could smell the salt of the ocean and hear the waves breaking against the sand  in rolling crashes. A late morning fog was still hanging around the beach, twisting among sea grass and blooming wild flowers. Hux followed behind you, looking out of place and under-dressed. Boots sinking into the wet sand, you both stood on the beach and looked out over the water as the knights exited the ship.

Kylo Ren held his helmet against his side as he made his way toward you with four of his knights following behind. He glanced at Hux, slowly shaking his head. Of all the people to join this mission, the general was the  _last_ person he would have chosen. It wasn't that Ren was worried about Hux's safety; the man could take care of himself perfectly well. But the last thing he needed was the general butting in with his bullshit and slowing him down.

And of course, Hux just  _had_ to open his mouth to complain. “Ren, there should be plans put forward to improve the secrecy of--”

“I don't have time for this,” he shot back and tugged his helmet over his head. Lightsabre in hand, he motioned toward Hux. “Whatever it is that you want to do, go do it. Take your body guard, and take one of the knights, and go kill the younger two captains. You can be as secretive as you'd like that way.”

Ren motioned to you and Graem to go along with Hux, and the general nearly snarled at seeing Graem move forward. The knight's gloved hands were tossing around a few live bombs as he sauntered his way beside you, a sly grin showing through the cross-shaped cut-out of his mask.

“Separating is an even  _worse_ idea,” Hux snapped, still looking like he would rip Graem into shreds.

You shushed  Hux , much to his surprise; he still wasn't used to being treated with such little respect. “Shut up. Let's just go,”  you whispered.

You wiggled your fingers toward Hux, trying to get him to follow you as Alma, Clees, and Kelakh started to make their way up a narrow path through the cliff. He cringed but followed you and rubbed at his forehead. Graem stood beside you as well, giving a judging glance toward General Hux. Like you, he didn't take the general all that seriously and refused to show him much, if any, respect, which often led to his direct disobedience. And that latter fact was what made him so different from you. You may have been full of disrespect, but at least you followed Hux's orders.

At the top of the cliff, the fog lifted, revealing short, rolling hills of scrag grass and bright, blossoming wild flowers in pink and violet. As Ren's team of knights began to trudge through the grass toward the military base, you sat on a rock and pulled a small datapad from a leather bag strapped to your belt and upper thigh. Hux and Graem looked over your shoulder as you pulled up the information about the two officers Ren had asked you to kill.

“Captains Euli Thales and Brix Berach are our targets,” you mumbled, watching as the face s of the middle-aged woman and young man came onto the screen. Bringing up a map of the base, you started to tap at different locations. “Euli is supposed to be in a meeting all afternoon in  _this_ building. And Brix... It looks like he'll be inspecting cruisers in this hangar just a kilometre east of the base.”

Hux memorised the map for a moment, his finger tapping against his chin. “If we target Captain Berach in the hangar, then it's possible to kill him without alerting the rest of the base. Would you be opposed to sneaking inside?”

“Of course not,” you said, already grinning. “It's what I do best. And I guess we can go after Euli next?”

Hux nodded and glanced at Graem who seemed to not be paying attention as he absent-mindedly tossed around a spherical bomb. “And as for you, I expect you to be on your best behaviour.”

Graem merely scoffed and shrugged his shoulders. “Whether or not I am, it won't be up to  _you_ .” And then he turned, already making northeast toward the hangar.

Following behind Graem and with Hux directly to your side, you watched as his face contorted in anger. It was difficult to tell whether he despised Graem because of the knight's refusal to follow orders or if it was something more personal. Something like jealousy born of the man's good looks and cocky, care-free nature, mixed with an unhealthy dose of loathing for the same reason that he had once loathed you. General Hux was a respectable man;  those who saw  him as anything else were made an enemy.

Of course, you already knew from past conversations with the knights that Graem didn't like Hux. Actually,  _none_ of the knights liked him. But while Alma and the brothers disliked that the general went over Ren's head and commanded them to go on ridiculous missions, Graem disliked Hux's core personality. The abrasive nature of the general gave Graem plenty of fodder for getting under his skin—but less in the facetious way that you were known for and more in the way of simply being a mean person.

The three of you had been passing through the tall grasses full of rocks and sandy dirt for nearly  fifteen minutes when Graem stopped and put out a hand to signal both you and Hux to get down. Just by the change in his stance, you could tell that he sensed someone was near, and you crouched into the grass beside Hux. Both of you waited in silence, wondering when Graem would give the all clear.

But instead of a signal, you heard several explosions in tight succession, and the grass waved back with the force of the blasts. Black smoke was billowing ahead along with a stream of sparks dancing into the air.

Hux looked completely shocked as his eyes followed the black smoke. It rose higher and higher, twisting into the grey sky. “Now the entire base will know that we're here,” he hissed.

At that moment, the comm on his belt went off with the all clear. You stood and pulled  a black scarf at your shoulders over your nose and mouth, pulling it tight behind your loose hair. Moving forward, you watched as Graem stood in the middle of a tangle of twisted metal and body parts. What had once been a cruiser full of officers was now a smouldering heap. Graem kicked around at the parts, laughing to himself. His foot hooked under a detached arm, and he caught it before throwing it over to you.

“Need a hand?” he teased.

You caught the arm and rolled your eyes whilst tossing it to the ground. Hux's upper lip rolled back in mild disgust at the scene. He had seen gore like this before; it wasn't anything new. But what a  _mess_ this mission already was becoming. He should have never allowed Ren to place Graem with him, but then again, he had had little choice in the matter.

Graem kept walking past the black smoke and fire of the cruiser but looked over his shoulder at both of you. “Clees commed me a minute ago, by the way. Alma's being sent in to kill one of the officers at this very moment. So let's hurry on up before they get to have all the fun.”

Leading the way once more, it was only a matter of a minute before Graem's hand was held up again and he hushed both of you. Seated once more in the grass, you unlatched the blaster from your belt and began to tap on the cold metal. From your vantage point, you could see another cruiser pull up, filled with several officers who looked more than concerned about the explosions and black smoke coming from so close by. They stopped before Graem, blasters pointed in his direction as they shouted for him to drop all weapons, but they had such little understanding of what they were dealing with.

The bombs that had been held in each of Graem's hands were dropped to the ground, and he slowly raised his hands as though ready to surrender. But at the precise moment that the officers started to appear comfortable, something changed. All at once, Graem sent their blasters flying from the cruiser with a few twitches of his fingers, and then a lightsabre at his belt flared to life, bright and orange-red in colour. Within seconds, the sabre flew through the air, and four heads separated permanently from their bodies, bouncing to the grass below.

You stood, watching as Graem kicked the heads about, checking to see if any of them were Captain Brix Berach. He fished one bleeding head from the grass, holding it by a scruff of blond hair.

“Killed your man,” he called, holding the head high above him so that the blood could trickle down his stretched arm and into his black tabard. Then he tossed it forward, and Hux stared down his nose toward the head that rolled  to his feet. Though the task of killing the officer had been relatively easy, he was still rather put off with Graem—especially as he watched the man hop into the cruiser and answer a comm that had been flashing over and again.

“Graem! Do not answer that!” Hux barked, but Graem was already laughing into the reciever and making some kind of smart mouthed remark about having killed the officers. Hux fired a warning shot in his direction, blasting a hole through the side of the cruiser and causing the power to snap off and end the comm. “I  _warned_ you--”

Graem rolled his eyes and leapt from the cruiser. “Did you think that would matter?”

“I don't give a  _damn_ about your life,” Hux shot back. “But do not  _dare_ to mess with ours!”

Hux's cheeks had turned red as he yelled toward Graem, light eyes wide and wild in his rage. The recklessness of the man had set a fire beneath Hux's lungs, burning through him so that the only thing he could comprehend was how much he wanted to see Graem also devoid of a head.

But as angry as Hux was, you couldn't match his sentiments, because you stood behind him, hiding a smile beneath your black scarf that you  _refused_ to show him. How had he managed to do this to you? How had he made a shameful grin cover your face by uttering a single word?  _Ours_ . Not just  _his_ life, but both of yours. Maybe it had been a fluke. Maybe a slip of his tongue, but regardless, you couldn't help but read into it. Once again, on some strange level, General Hux cared about your life, and you were torn between laughing and being so flattered that you couldn't speak.

Of course, neither Hux nor Graem noticed you at that moment. Both were too busy checking the comms that were going off on their belts. Clees was on the other end, informing everyone that Alma and Kelakh had just killed both of their targets. Now all that was left was to search for Captain Euli, and whichever team found her first could go in for the kill. A spark flew across Graem's  black  eyes at hearing that they were ahead of him, and he grew momentarily serious and then started to walk faster toward the base with both you and Hux still following behind him.

Blasters in hand and eyes scanning at the crags and tall grass, you set your pace to match Hux's and walked to his left. “So tell me...” you began. “Why did you  _really_ come along?”

Hux didn't care to answer and stared forward. You rolled your eyes with a sigh, “It was to prove to me that you're capable, right? This is all about impressing me, isn't it?”

He scoffed. “If I was trying to impress you, I wouldn't do it by placing my life in danger near the likes of someone like  _him_ .” He motioned toward Graem who was now quite a bit ahead and just a black speck against a white, rocky cliff.

You groaned, knowing full well that Hux wasn't being fully honest, and your head tipped back toward the sky in exasperation. “Just admit that you--”

But before you could finish drawing out more information from him, Hux shoved you down to the ground, and a hot shot from a blaster soared over your head from behind. Cursing, you twisted from your stomach to your back in the grass just in time to see an officer running forward, nearly hovering over you. In the time it took to aim your blaster, Hux had lurched up from the grass and bashed his blaster into the man's face, and then you both shot at the same moment to leave shreds of the officer's chest.

Hux crashed back down beside you in the grass and wild flowers, and you both positioned your blasters as more troops came forward. They were swarming out of a cruiser, six in total. A look of steely determination had crossed Hux's eyes as he knelt beside you, suddenly looking far more serious than you had ever seen him. Not serious in the way that he normally was—like a posh, irritated brat  who had just witnessed drag mud into his living quarters . But serious like a warrior. A sniper. A killer. He was sweating, nervous, his hair already falling from its slicked-back style and falling over his forehead to touch against light eyebrows. But even though his breath was quicker and a twitch held beneath his eye, he was ready. Ready for anything.

As the half dozen soldiers ran forward, Hux shot at one of them, grazing the man's shoulder, and you shot again to watch him fall into the grass. Then another fell beside him, which you realised must have been from Graem. Your eyes scanned the surrounding area of wild flowers and rocks on small hills and then traced up the white cliffs to see Graem positioned on top with a vantage over the entire field. He was shooting from above with a tiny blaster but missing. The blaster didn't have the capability of shooting at such a far range—not like your own blaster which was larger and better equipped for such a mission.

You stared back through the target of your blaster, lining up the bullseye with one of the soldiers who was running to hide behind a chunk of jagged, white rock. Pulling the trigger, a section of the rock exploded with your blast, and the soldier scurried as quickly as possible through the grass as you aimed once more. With your attention so focused, your world start ed to narrow. The tunnel vision of the blaster's eye piece reflected your mind as you quickly shifted into assassin mode. You were here to kill, and all other thoughts had left.

And quite possibly, this mode of thinking could have worked flawlessly if it wasn't for the wild card knight on the top of the cliffs, who had now hooked his useless blaster back onto his belt and was flipping the mechanical switch on the side of a bomb and chucking it below. With your attention so focused on such a tiny mark upon the soldier, you had completely ignored Graem. So it was a surprise t o be  ripped from your self-imposed reality when General Hux yanked you back and tugged at your upper arm as he started to run away from the New Republic soldiers.

Everything happened within a second.

First, you were brought to your feet by Hux, who was screaming to run. Then you were two paces through the grass when a bomb exploded directly behind you and sent both you and General Hux flying forward into the grass. Burning hot air was at your back, scorching your clothes as it blasted your  scarf and hair forward into your face, and for just a split second, you could feel your feet leave the ground as it shoved you forward. The noise was so loud and blast so bright that this brief instance of weightlessness seemed completely surreal, as though it lasted a full minute rather than a second. And when you came crashing back down to earth, stomach hitting flat on the grass and head finding its way against a patch of semi-eroded cliff rock, you could barely comprehend what had actually just happened.

The blast was still ringing in your ears, sharp with a series of dull  _tings_ in the background as your world came back into focus. Immediately, you reached for your head  and pulled off your scarf , feeling as though your brain had just whipped within your skull. Slightly dazed, you let out a curse that you couldn't hear and pulled away your hand from your hairline as a trickle of blood snaked its way down your forehead. The blood pooled above your left eyebrow and then dripped directly into your eye, and you hissed from the sting and held onto the cut tighter.

The cut itself was inconsequential—just a  tiny  head wound. It didn't even hurt  all that much , but you knew that it would bleed. That was normal. What was less normal was the ringing in your ears so that you couldn't hear anything else. Opening your right eye to squint, you could see Hux beside you, lying on his back in the grass and reaching for his blaster. He sat up and quickly shot to his side, and a soldier fell, landing at your feet.

Glancing over the field, you could tell where the bomb had landed from the scorched grass and chunks of earth that had flown into the air and scattered. Smoke was billowing, and the remaining soldiers were lying in a tangled heap of blood and tattered uniforms.

Hux collapsed back again, his elbow shielding his face. If your own suddenly pounding headache was any indication, he most likely was suffering the same from the blast. And in  _his_ case, he was looking  _at_ the blast when it had gone off. Those light, sea-glass eyes of his weren't meant for such bright light.

You read his lips, only barely hearing him.

“Fucking Graem,” he spat. With one arm still pressed against his face, he fumbled at his belt for his comm, but it was snapped in half. He cursed and then reached at your own belt to search for your comm. It wasn't even on your belt but in a bag strapped to your thigh, and he gave up searching and cursed again.

His hand lingered at your right hip, and he gave a squeeze of his fingers. Your right hand wandered to his, squeezing back. It was all that really needed to be done in that moment with both of you still reeling from the shock of the blast. Every second that slipped past just brought on an even worse headache that pounded against the back of your skull and wrapped around the left side of your head to where you had slammed against the rocks.

You opened your right eye again, watching as Hux's lips moved but still not hearing him over the ringing. Scooting forward, you finally heard him.

“Comm Ren.”

“Yeah,” you answered, pulling the comm from your bag. It beeped for a few minutes before Kylo Ren picked up, his voice difficult to understand between the modulator and comm's static.

“I wasn't expecting so much smoke for such a small task,” he commented, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Yeah, well, you can blame Graem for that.”

“Tell him to come back to the ship. Alma killed Captain Euli a minute ago. Our job here is done.”

You heard the comm click off and shoved it back into your bag as Graem gallivanted his way over from where he had climbed down the cliff. Your groan in his direction cued off Hux, who pulled himself to standing so that he could start to scream at the knight for having nearly killed the both of you. You could hear most of the conversation as the high-pitched ringing gradually left to be replaced by a dull throb.

“You knew  _damned_ well that we were in too close of proximity for you to be using bombs!” he roared. “It's a miracle that we survived at all!”

Hux was squinting toward Graem, who didn't seem to care one way or another. The knight shrugged his shoulders and tore his helmet from his head. “But you  _did_ survive, so I really don't see the problem,” Graem responded. “Unless you're just that keen on making a big deal of it all for no reason.”

Hux was in Graem's face, about ready to claw through the man. “I'm making this a  _'big deal'_ because you have no regard for anyone's life but your own!” He kept screaming, his fists balling up and then changing to accusing finger jabs. You hadn't seen General Hux this infuriated since  _you_ had tried to kill him.

And something about that was kind of hilarious. Here he was, all pissed off again, but it wasn't because of  _you_ trying to assassinate him. For a split second, you hadn't even believed that his anger had anything to do with you at all, but that was incorrect. Because it  _was_ still about you. But instead of his anger being directed at you, it was because he had been  _worried_ about you. Once again, he had never used a singular pronoun. It was  _'we'_ and  _'us'_ . It was General Hux giving a shit about your life in some sweet way  even though he was covered in dirt and roaring mad a few paces away.

So the laughter that broke free from your lips didn't surprise you in the least bit, but it was definitely  _not_ what Hux nor Graem had expected. Both of them stopped mid-sentence to look over at you—Graem out of mild curiosity and Hux out of complete exasperation as he figured that, even after going through all of this shit, you were still most likely laughing at  _him_ . And you kind of were. But at the same time, you were laughing because you couldn't believe that he cared about you and couldn't believe that you had almost been blown up and couldn't believe that your ears were still ringing and head swimming in a fog and back feeling raw from the blast. You were dizzy and in pain, and everything sucked. But General Hux had just saved your ass from a bomb and had managed to take out more soldiers than you. And in a self-deprecating kind of way, that was  _hilarious_ .

“You think this is all very funny?” Hux asked as he stepped away from Graem and came back over to you.

All you could do was shake your head as a reply and moved both of your hands in front of you as though to shoo away his anger. He would have kept questioning you if he hadn't suddenly seen the blood on your hand and smeared across your face. Dropping to his knees before you, Hux reached out, parting your hair with cold fingers to look at the cut on your hairline as your laughing  died down.

“Graem,” Hux barked, voice lower now. His anger had been replaced with a seriousness as solid as ice. “Comm Ren. Tell him to bring the ship here. She isn't going anywhere on foot.”

“I'm fine, I'm fine!” You tried to shoo away his hand with your own, but he didn't believe you for a single second.

“You most certainly are not.” Once again, the anger had left from his voice, and now every word was controlled, sharp and exact. “Look at you; you're hideous.”

He kept digging through your hair, looking for any more cuts, and then finally pressed against the wound as you tried not to laugh any more at him. He was being so incredibly ridiculous. The only thing that hurt was your headache, and no amount of pressure held to a tiny cut was going to help that. But you took in a deep breath and relaxed, closing your eyes against the light that still seemed too bright.

“You don't have to do this,” you finally commented. In the distance, you could hear Kylo Ren's ship approaching, but Hux's attention was still on you.

He huffed out a sigh, and then his lips were closer to your ear as he pushed a lock of hair away from your face. “Stop being so stubborn. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't  _want_ to do so.”

In spite of yourself, a smile started to tug at your lips. You were sure that Hux must have noticed. Even with your eyes closed, you could tell that he was feeling pretty damn smug beside you. His other arm wrapped around your back to help pull you to your feet as Kylo Ren's ship landed in the field close by, and both of you made your way on board behind Graem.

The knights were up to their own business on board and winding down from the mission,  and Graem went to join them . They  gathered in the tiny meeting room, ready to discuss what had occurred with Kylo Ren  who merely gave an assessing glance in your direction before joining them.

Now, left alone from the knights and only in view of the Troopers, Hux sat you onto the couch in the ship's lounge. He inspected the cut along your hairline once again before leaving for a few minutes. The wound had finally stopped bleeding, and the stream of blood running down the left side of your face had dried thickly over your eye and cheek.

Returning with a wet towel, Hux pressed it to your face and started to pull strands of hair from the matted, bloody mess. “I should strangle Graem,” he whispered as a low growl. “Slice through his neck and rip out his spine...”

“Well, why don't you?” you mumbled jokingly. You held the towel to your face and started to rub off the dried blood. Finally, you could see out of both eyes and looked over to Hux to see him frowning. His hands were covered in blood as he glared down at the floor. Slowly, he closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples without any regard for the amount of blood now on his face. It wouldn't have surprised you if his headache was as bad as your own from the blast.

“I relinquished my control of the knights,” he answered. “I won't be commanding them any longer.”

You raised an eyebrow and handed him the towel so he could clean the blood from his hands. “And... where does that leave me?”

He side-eyed you for a moment and then glanced out of the viewport as the ship took off, quickly passing through the atmosphere and then into the black of space. “We'll see.” It wasn't much of an answer, but by the exhausted, pained look on his face, you didn't really expect much more  to be said  from him. He seemed more than finished with talking and leaned back into the couch with his arm back over his face to block out the dim light inside the ship.

Sighing, you clenched your eyes shut as well and flopped on the couch so that you were laying on your side, your head beside his thigh and hair falling over his lap.

“Are your ears ringing?” you asked after a minute.

“Yes,” Hux whispered and reached blindly for you beside him, his hand finding your shoulder. You gave the slightest flinch but then relaxed, letting him rest his hand on you. It was difficult to tell in that moment if your flinch had been from the residual fear of being touched or just because his hands were always so damn cold. You hoped that it was the latter.

“And do you have a headache as bloody awful as I do?” you asked with words growing slower as you got more comfortable and infinitely more fatigued.

Hux must have been just as tired, because he merely grunted out a 'yes' and squeezed your shoulder in affirmation. Through the thick linen of your shirt, you could feel his thumb moving back and forth, slower and slower until you were sure that he had fallen asleep. And in hardly no time at all, you followed suit, sleeping the entire way back to the  _Finalizer_ and Starkiller Base.


	14. To Eufornis Major

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Hux's and Kylo Ren's business upon the planet of Eufornis Major comes to light and involves you in unexpected ways.

 

**Chapter Playlist:** [ Youtube ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iX-QaNzd-0Y&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZlnApaOniHICbv3iXlZSqO)

* * *

“And how seriously do you take me now?” Hux asked as he buttoned his uniform, staring straight into the mirror above his dresser. It was seven in the damn morning, but this seemed to be the time when he felt most alive. You could hear him rattling on as you laid on his couch, Millicent sitting on your stomach as you scratched her ears and stared up at the ceiling.

“I know you think that saving me from Graem's bomb was like a watershed moment, but I'm still going to keep making fun of you,” you yelled so that he could hear you from his bedroom.

He poked his head out of his room to glare at you, a comb running through his hair to slick it to the side and back away from his forehead. You really wished he wouldn't do that; suddenly he looked so stuck up. But he was a perfectionist, and you were starting to accept that.

Hux groaned but seemed to expect that you weren't going to take him any more seriously. “But do you at least now see that I am _qualified_ to be a general?”

“Pfft, that wasn't an argument,” you replied whilst picking up Millicent to hold against your hip as you walked over to him. “Yeah. You're qualified.” Hux cracked a smile, but you pointed toward his face with a raised eyebrow. “I know you have a big ego, but don't let it get any bigger, or so help me, I will tear you down like a tree meeting a shredder.”

He was still smiling as he tugged on his military cap. “You think you're so clever--”

“Oh, I _know_ I'm clever, but thanks for finally noticing.”

General Hux shook his head as though the motion would wipe his smile away, but it seemed plastered to his face. Perhaps he was just as amused by you as you were by him. He wasn't quite sure. But seeing you in his doorway with Millicent held against your hip and that cocky, threatening smile of your own seemed to be a little too much for this early in the morning. He bit at his lower lip and looked back into the mirror, making sure that he looked pristine as usual. And, yes. He did. Excellent.

Walking past you and toward the front door of his quarters, Hux motioned for you to follow, and you dropped Millicent on the couch to shadow behind him. He seemed too chipper, but you didn't mention it. You were certain that he was well aware of his own behaviour and how he had been acting ever since you had gotten back from the previous mission a few days before. It hadn't gone unnoticed by the knights that your head was in his lap and his arm over your shoulder to hold you close as both of you slept on the couch. When you had awoken from the commotion of exiting Troopers at the _Finalizer_ 's hangar, you had seen Kylo Ren give a roll of his eyes in your and Hux's direction. Whatever it was between the two of you definitely was not a secret any more.

Though what it actually _was_ between you had still yet to be clarified. You counted in your head all of the intimate moments that you and Hux had had thus far: two kisses (one of which that could be likened to failure on both of your parts and the other far more sweet, far more intriguing), saving each other's lives a few times, and then falling asleep cuddled on the couch. It wasn't much. Certainly not enough to use as the evaluation for whether you were developing some kind of relationship or not, but it was still _something_.

General Hux was making his way up the stairs to the main level of the _Finalizer_ when he stopped, waiting for you to join him on a step beside him. He glanced away for a moment, mouth temporarily turning to a frown before he looked at you.

“You know that I have business in a few days on Eufornis Major, correct?”

You nodded. You had heard plenty of talk over the past couple of weeks about some First Order fundraiser gala being held by a king on Eufornis Major. Hux had seemed more than stressed about the event—mostly because Kylo Ren would be in attendance, and he had revealed more than once that he was anticipating Ren ruining the entire event.

“We'll be raising funds from dignitaries and politicians across the system, and...” He looked away once again. “I expect you to be in presence.”

“I'd figured I would be,” you admitted. After all, you followed him everywhere. A crowded gala seemed like a perfect opportunity for attack, and you had prepared yourself to keep a sharp eye on him.

He took in a deep breath, letting it out as a long sigh. “You must promise to not embarrass me, though. No childish pranks. Your absolute _best_ behaviour. It's a very formal event, so you'll want to dress nicely. Use manners.” He sighed again. “I don't know why I'm going over this with you. You should be able to ascertain the situation and how to act. I'm...”

You looked up at him, arms folded over your chest. “You're afraid of Ren embarrassing you; I get that. But you know I can control myself when the situation calls for it. Stop worrying so much.”

He nodded, starting to step up the stairs once again, and you kept behind him. “ _Very_ formal,” he repeated after a minute. “You will want to wear something nicer than... your _usual_ attire.”

A fleeting look of nervousness crossed your face as you glanced down at your outfit, but in a second it was gone with a nod of agreement. You'd find _something_ to wear. Somehow. You weren't sure how nice that meant, but you knew that it had to be better than the faded black linen that was currently adorning your body. It would most likely be a challenge to look presentable, but as you walked behind General Hux, you had an idea of who to speak with about obtaining nice clothing. And that was all the hope you needed.

* * *

After twelve hours of shadowing behind General Hux, you made your way to a civilian area of the _Finalizer_ and began a slow walk past several living quarters, trying to find out which door to knock upon. This was an entirely new part of the ship for you. This being the home to contracted workers within the First Order, you had never actually needed to come here. But you knew that somewhere, behind one of these doors, would be the person who could help you.

Pausing before a door marked _Dr A F S_ , you hit at the comm by the door and waited a moment before the door slid open with a whoosh. Standing in a charcoal-coloured rayon dress and a loose, white hood over her head was Dr Amena Sayeed. She gave a single glance up at you from narrowed eyes but stepped aside to let you in. Immediately, the door swooshed shut, and she tossed her hooded scarf onto a hook by the door.

“I need your help,” you blurted out.

Amena huffed out a little laugh and started to pull her fingers through her dark, wavy hair. “I assumed as much, though I'm hoping that you aren't here due to a medical emergency?”

“No, nothing like that. I just...” You tried to figure out exactly how to frame your situation and why you had chosen Amena of all people to help you. “...You don't wear a uniform, so you seemed like the person to go to. But I'm supposed to wear something nice to a gala. Really nice. And I literally own just pieces of hand-me-down trash from the Troopers. Like, the nicest thing I own is one of Kylo Ren's old sweaters, and it comes down to my knees and is fraying. I have _no idea_ how to dress nicely, and everyone else around me wears uniforms. But every time I've seen you, you're wearing dresses and looking _nice_ , I guess. So... I dunno. Help me?”

Amena raised a thick eyebrow in your direction and slowly looked you up and down—head to toes as though she was dressing you in her mind. “What kind of formal clothes are you _wanting_ for the gala?” she asked while crossing to a closet in the hallway by her bedroom.

You shrugged. “I don't even know what formal clothes _are_. Much less what to expect to wear to a gala. I've never been to one.”

“Obviously,” Amena mumbled. She opened the closet to reveal a long rack of dresses and robes in various colours. Her fingers ran along the clothes, plucking at the different materials as she judged what would be appropriate. “Hmm, kaftans would be more formal, though you would look just as good in an abaya...” She tossed a few of the dresses in your direction, and you caught them, quickly filling your arms.

You scanned the dresses in your arms, feeling as though you were carrying gold rather than clothes. Never before had you seen anything so beautiful. It felt wrong to touch the dresses whose fabrics were silky as running water and covered in beading and intricate embroidery.

“These are too nice for me,” you commented as Amena threw another dress onto the pile. “I can't wear any of these.”

“You most certainly can,” she commented. “Your only concern will be that I'm far shorter than you. I'll have to let out the hem on whichever you borrow.”

“Wait, you're letting me _borrow_ one of these?” You felt frazzled as you dumped the dresses onto a low chair in her living room. “I just asked for _advice_. I didn't expect--”

“Did you really think that you could find an outfit on board in time to leave for a gala without borrowing something? Honestly, your sense of planning is nearly as bad as Ren's.”

Amena sighed and started holding up some of the dresses in front of you and clucking her tongue in disapproval. A red dress—a _kaftan_ in her words—was thrown back down to the chair, and a peach and gold abaya followed suit. She pulled through another five dresses before holding a black and gold dress in front of you and smiling. She swung it around, letting you look at the gold buttons that ran from the high neck down to the belt to fade into layers of hand-stitched embroidery and bead work. A black and gold shawl hung from the hanger, matching the dress perfectly. It was by far the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, and you didn't even want to touch it.

“I can't—”

Amena interrupted you. “You _will_. My cousin gave me this a month ago, and I haven't taken up the hem at the bottom yet, so the length should be fine. Take it.” She shoved the dress into your arms and then glanced down at your shoes. “I can't help you with much else, but this should be long enough to hide your boots. Just be sure to clean them before the event. I can't imagine that the general would be pleased seeing you in muddy boots.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat as you held the dress in your arms, still feeling unworthy. Amena didn't seem to think that this was a big deal at all, and she meandered to her bedroom for a moment before coming back with a dainty, gold chain in her hands.

“One last thing...” she mumbled. She laced the chain over the part in your hair and let a translucent, grey jewel rest on your forehead as two more chains draped over your head. Glancing into a mirror, you could feel your eyes go wide as you stared at your reflection. It was stunning, and you felt like a damned princess. Amena smiled, feeling rather proud of her ability to pull together an outfit for you last minute.

“Promise me one thing, though,” Amena said before letting you leave with the dress, shawl, and golden chain packed away in a garment bag. “Don't get any blood on it.”

You frowned for a second. “I wasn't planning on it.”

Amena rolled her eyes. “I hear plenty of stories from Captain Phasma about the situations you get yourself into. If you damage the dress, I'll probably kill you.”

You nodded, smiling in spite of yourself. You weren't entirely sure if Amena was kidding or not; she had one of those faces that was just naturally serious at every possible moment. But it was entertaining to think of this tiny, little lady trying to kill _you_. Still, she had done enough for you that you weren't about to make her sorry for helping you out.

“Got it,” you promised. “No blood.”

* * *

For the first time, you actually felt _nervous_ walking up the ramp to Kylo Ren's ship. All of the times that you had left the _Finalizer_ to go kill people had been ordinary—just another day's work. But leaving for a formal event among the system's elite was an entirely new experience, and it occurred to you that new experiences, while often exhilarating, could also be slightly terrifying. And so you took a deep breath as you stepped on board, garment bag and backpack in hand.

General Hux was following behind you, his eyes glued to the garment bag as though hoping he could see through the dark canvas to what hid inside. There was an impatience to his speech as he asked you if you were fully prepared for the event, and you couldn't tell if he had been nervous that you would just pack along your usual black and brown grunge attire or if he simply wanted to see inside the garment bag for himself. He seemed to relax when you told him that Amena had helped you pick out an outfit, which was a relief. Apparently Amena's judgement was highly trusted.

As soon as you and Hux had stepped on board, the entrance ramp began to close, and you glanced over to Hux with furrowed brows.

“Aren't the knights joining us?” The only other person on board aside from a few Troopers was Kylo Ren, but you had expected to see the other four knights in attendance.

Hux shook his head. “They were not all invited. And more to the point, I don't see a reason for them to attend the gala—the Knights of Ren may work alongside the First Order, but they are not actually a part of the organisation. A few captains of the First Order will be in attendance instead.” He glanced over at Kylo Ren, who was pretending to read something on a datapad on a nearby couch. “I hadn't even wanted Ren to join the gala--”

“Yes, you've made that clear,” he interrupted.

“--But it was a specific request of King Clovis of Eufornis Major. And I won't attempt upsetting the one who is hosting this much needed event.”

There was an energy that passed between Hux and Ren at that moment, both of them glaring at one another before shattering the contact and looking away. Kylo Ren let out an irritated sigh and stood whilst cracking his neck. Without a word, he left for his private room on the ship, and Hux frowned toward the empty hallway.

“What are you not telling me?” you asked whilst pulling your feet onto the couch to sit cross legged beside Hux.

He groaned for a moment but then faced you, his right arm leaning against the back of the couch so that his chin could rest on his fist. “There are intricacies to the relationships between the First Order, Knights of Ren, and royals of Eufornis Major that would make your head spin.”

“Try me.”

Hux seemed to think about how much he wanted to tell you, and his eyes momentarily closed as he rubbed at his temples. The wrinkles between his furrowed eyebrows made him appear far older than his early thirties. Ever so slowly, his face relaxed, and he appeared to buckle in for the long haul to explain just what was going on.

As you travelled thousands of miles across space, General Hux began to explain the minutiae of the situation, detailing nepotism and corruption, invested interests and political power structures that, indeed, made your head spin.

For starters, King Clovis of Eufornis Major was not just a powerful and wealthy ally of the First Order, but also a strong supporter of Supreme Leader Snoke. It was to Snoke that he had promised the skills of his daughter, Princess Regine, who had been found at a young age to be incredibly strong in the Force. As Regine had reached adulthood, Snoke had allowed for her to become a seventh member of the Knights of Ren. With the Knights, she had been training for nearly a year—the bulk of said training being under fellow knight Salim and occasionally under Graem.

While the princess, and now _knight_ , of Eufornis Major was loyal to Snoke and Snoke alone, King Clovis had much more divided interests. Though his daughter could easily take care of herself, King Clovis was still wildly protective and doting, and it turned out that the First Order gala had initially been a ball in her honour as she was released into Kylo Ren's and Snoke's care. This was the reason why Kylo Ren had been invited in the first place. Later, it had been decided that King Clovis would also fund-raise for the First Order, to which he had built an alliance after the fall of the Empire that had initially given his family their wealth. It was at this point that General Hux had become involved in the tangled web of affairs between Eufornis Major and the Knights. And if it hadn't been for the vast amounts of money that was promised by King Clovis into the First Order's coffers, he would have just as well said 'to hell' with the entire event.

“There is no doubt in my mind that you will recognise both King Clovis and Princess Regine when you see them,” Hux commented later in the day as Kylo Ren's ship landed upon the dark planet of Eufornis Major. Night had pulled its cloak over the sky, but the atmosphere was thin and glittering in millions of stars. You walked alongside Hux into a covered hallway off the royal palace's outdoor hangar with your garment bag and backpack in hand, listening intently. “They're both tall. Clovis is taller than Ren, and Regine is at least my height. And they're beautiful. Even if they are not dressed in royal attire, you will know who they are.”

You kept your eyes peeled for any sight of them as you walked through halls of carved white and grey marble, but at this time of night, you merely saw royal servants and a few other guests in the halls. You trusted none of them. Darkness was your ally as an assassin, but as a guard to General Hux, it was your enemy. Any unfamiliar place or face set you on edge. As the Troopers walked behind you, Hux, and Kylo Ren, you wished for the daylight—wished to see your full surroundings rather than low-lit marble and open archways revealing the night sky and dark patios. It was a beautiful place, but it was dangerous.

Several white-clad servants directed your group down a narrow hallway of closed doors and more arches open to the outside, and they stopped at the end of the hall to motion each person toward a specific door. The Troopers were led to two quarters to share beside an already occupied room of First Order captains who had arrived some days before. Then the servants guided Kylo Ren to his own private room. One of the servants was explaining to Hux that they had saved the second largest room for his personal use, and the servant glanced at you for a moment, his face scrunching into a confused frown.

“We hadn't anticipated another guest--”

Hux interrupted him with a waive of his hand. “She will remain with me.”

Without another word, the servant nodded and opened the door for both you and Hux to a large room of contrasting marble and night sky. The opposing wall of the room was nothing but intricately carved arches that separated a large, plant-filled patio from the indoors. A light breeze pushed opal-coloured curtains into the room in gentle waves, and you stepped forward without even thinking, letting your hand run over the sheer cloth. Such an open space was strange; you were so used to small, cramped quarters. The fact that you could walk directly beneath the arch and into the outdoors on the patio was slightly alarming and certainly not safe should anyone want to attack General Hux. But he didn't seem all that concerned as he stepped beside you and leaned against one of the marble arches.

He looked out over the dark sky, his face falling in shadow as his red hair was illuminated by light from behind. His arms were folded over his chest as he stared out in silence. Perhaps the sky here was beautiful, but you had seen stars before. Stars were ordinary. Normal. What was far more fascinating at this moment was Hux and the way the light fell over his sharp cheekbones to create drastic shadows. You were transfixed and not sure why, but a spark ran quickly from your throat to the pit of your stomach when his light eyes shifted to meet your own.

“You're staring,” he commented.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and narrowed your eyes at him. “So what if I am?”

He laughed to himself and motioned with a finger for you to come closer, and rolling your eyes, you did so. Standing directly before him, you folded your arms to match his and looked up with a raised eyebrow. General Hux was tired from travelling but smiling as he studied your face—equally as entranced by how the dim light reflected from your face and hair. Slowly, he uncrossed his arms and reached forward, pulling a lock of hair behind your ear. You stood as still as possible, not allowing yourself to flinch, not allowing yourself to even breathe as you watched him move more hair from your shoulders and behind your back. He had the same look on his face that he had had a few weeks before when you had faced him on his couch, trying to figure out what in the hell was going on between both of you.

His hand that had been playing with your hair was now behind your neck, just lightly pressed against the base of your skull so that your hair could twist between his fingers. You could feel your heart beating faster as he tilted your head up and closed in some of the space between you.

“You're going to kiss me again, aren't you?” you asked, voice barely more than a breathy whisper.

Hux smiled in a way to show his teeth, white and straight and catching the dim light. “That depends on whether or not you will let me. I tricked you once for a kiss, but I don't imagine I'll be so lucky to steal one from you again. You're liable to break my neck or bite off my tongue.”

“You know me well, then.”

Popping onto the balls of your feet, you reached forward to bring his face to yours. There was a second where all was still. The breeze stopped. Breath stopped. Hearts stopped. And then time was born again as you kissed him. One hand at his shoulder, another holding the side of his face so that your thumb could run over his high cheekbone, you continued. Kiss after kiss, his hands tugging at your hair as you pressed yourself closer to him. Even a mere inch was too far a distance, and you could feel the belt of his uniform against your stomach—feel his hips pressed against your own.

Hux gasped for breath, his lips leaving yours for a moment. But then they were back, and he kissed a line across your jawbone and down your neck until reaching the collar of your shirt. Here, he sighed and slowly brought his face before yours, letting his lips hover above yours. Heat had risen in his face, radiating toward your own and soaking into your fingertips that had found their way into his hair. You smiled as you ran your fingers further up the back of his head, ruffling his hair until you could pluck his military cap from his head and lazily toss it behind him so that it landed on a plush bed in the middle of the room.

“You're blushing,” you chuckled while touching your fingers against his cheek. His normally pale face was flushed red between tiny freckles, and he flinched ever so slightly, feeling embarrassed.

“I am not,” he lied, and he kissed you again, slowly pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth as he let go. “Anything you see is merely a trick of the light.”

You laughed again and slipped out of his grasp to meander into the room, and he followed along with a sigh and slow shake of his head. You looked up at him from within the lighted room and grinned whilst biting your lip. “You're such a liar. You are _too_ blushing.”

He rolled his eyes but didn't try to fight you on it. Still giggling under your breath, you picked up his military cap from the bed and twisted it around, looking at the insignia on the front and winged sides. The side creases in the fabric looked like ridiculous bat wings, and you shoved it onto your head.

“How do I look?”

Hux frowned and pulled it from your head. “First Order uniform doesn't suit you.”

He placed the hat on a long dressing table before a large mirror and started to unbutton the top of his collar. Within only a few seconds, he had gone back to his usual seriousness, and you leaned against the dresser to watch him.

“Not gonna lie, but I would've thought you'd _enjoy_ seeing me as part of the First Order,” you said.

The slightest shake of his head told you otherwise. “In another life, perhaps. But as it stands, I very much appreciate that you fall under the authority of the Knights rather than the First Order. It allows me to do this.”

He reached forward once more, his hand at your jaw, and he slowly kissed you before pulling away to continue unbuttoning his uniform. This time around, you knew that _you_ were the one most likely blushing. Already, the warmth was flooding your cheeks, and you could feel your heart fluttering faster and faster within your chest. It was like a hummingbird, beating quickly but light as a feather. A different kind of nervousness. A _pleasant_ nervousness.

“And how does Ren feel about all of this?” you asked.

“Oh, to hell with the man,” Hux spat. “I don't need his approval to do as I wish.”

He didn't sound all that convincing, though.

With a shrug, you bounced onto the edge of the massive bed that took up a quarter of the room, and you started to dig through your backpack. All the while, Hux droned on about his annoyance with Ren, with the First Order captains, with the business procedures that would be conducted the next morning as the gala was set up. His stress dripped like oil, seeping from pores to the floor to run along the grooved marble. He could have flooded the entire room, the entire planet, but by this point, you were all too used to it. It was this type of venting as he went about his business that you had come to expect from him. The second either of you were alone, Hux would begin to pour out every worry as though you were a vessel to be filled. Though if he had meant to inundate you with all of his stress, he had done a rather poor job of it, because you were only half listening most of the time.

As you sat on the bed, your fingers tapped against your datapad to read through transmissions and First Order updates. A light slowly blinked at the top of the screen, and you narrowed your eyes as you waited for the transmission to upload. Glancing toward Hux, you could see him watching you from the reflection in the mirror, looking equally as intrigued that someone would be trying to contact you.

“What does it say?” he asked, now combing through his hair.

You grimaced as the transmission number showed up. You had seen it once before.

“It's Anna,” you said after a minute. It had felt like a million years since she had last contacted you to say that Raph was well aware of your whereabouts, and even that amount of time wasn't long enough. Stomach acid rolled into your throat, and the pleasant nervousness that had been controlling your chest was now replaced by a much more familiar feeling of fear.

“Is this about Raph?” Hux asked, his hand holding the comb hovering over his head as he snarled, fingers turning white. “I swear I'll kill the bastard.”

“No. No, not him. She says Breeah hacked into the First Order transmissions network again. There's a warning of attack.”

Hux dropped the comb onto the dresser and leaned beside you to read the message, but it was detailed in one of Raph's unmistakeable codes. “Why did I not receive such a warning if the First Order is going to be attacked?” he asked, voice turned to ice. He was the general of the entire damned organisation, after all. Why would _he_ not be informed?

You looked up at him and swallowed a lump in your throat. “Because you weren't meant to find out about it. Hux, this is a tip that an attack against the First Order is planned, but there's no other information about _what_ is planned. Just... there's only one thing Anna and Breeah know for sure. It's going to happen soon, and it's going to come from the _inside_.”

Hux's eyebrows had pulled together, a snarl meeting his lips. “I have a traitor among my officers?”

You nodded, eyes focusing away from the transmission to meet his own. That glare of his could have melted ice and set it boiling. “Most likely,” you answered.

He took in a deep breath, staring forward in determination. “Tell your friends that I thank them for the warning—though I would appreciate if they didn't keep breaking into my databases as though they're play things. And as for you, keep your eyes open.”

“I will.”

“Because regardless of whether it is you or someone else who stops this possible attack, I'm going to have an officer's skull on my desk by the time we return to the _Finalizer_ , and I don't expect this to be easy.”

* * *

** Glossary: **

_ Abaya/Kaftan _ : Some people use these terms interchangeably to describe a lose fitting, Arab styled dress, though I'm here to tell you that there's definitely a difference  (and from Amena's speech, she would also be in the camp that believes there's a difference) . Abayas tend to be lo ose dresses from an Arab/Middle-Eastern region, and they are often worn over the regular clothing. Abayas tend to be in dark colours (usually black), though they can come in any colour and style. Kaftans, on the other hand, vary considerably by culture and region. In some areas, they may be very similar to the abaya but worn by both men and women. In other areas, they are strictly for women and can be quite formal. Maghreb kaftans— a Moroccan wardrobe essential— are often more fitted than other abayas and kaftans, especially through the bust and waist, and they tend to be more decorated than abayas  with brighter colours, embroidery, and beading . It is common to see a kaftan worn at a special event while an abaya may be worn casually. The two garments often cross over, but that's the general distinction.  You can find some pictures of abayas [HERE](https://www.google.com/search?q=kaftan&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjCnufl2efMAhXm5IMKHRByBooQ_AUICCgC&biw=1366&bih=677#tbm=isch&q=abaya) and  Maghreb  kaftans [HERE](https://www.google.com/search?q=kaftan&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjCnufl2efMAhXm5IMKHRByBooQ_AUICCgC&biw=1366&bih=677#tbm=isch&q=moroccan+kaftan).  The dress that our reader will wear remains a surprise for most of you and will be revealed in the next chapter.

* * *

** A/N: ** The last scene of this chapter was completely unplanned and literally just written to cheer myself up after having an argument with someone. I hope that you enjoy the fluff as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, hope you enjoyed the random Arab fashion info. ;)


	15. The First Order Gala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between business and pleasure, you and General Hux have only eyes for each other. Which may be a problem, because there are others with eyes upon you.

 

**Playlist:** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YLd3nT6iqPs&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhaqpVfNBKwJHbWUMkXQ8ete)

* * *

 

The frivolities involved in a fundraising gala were much the same as a ball—not that you would have known the difference. The day before the formal gala was comprised of two simultaneous activities. First of which were the massive preparations by the Eurfornis Major palace staff, who were busy setting up the ball room and all adjoining rooms and hallways for the event. They ran around the palace in their all-white, fetching items for the few hundred invited guests (and a few _un_ invited guests, as well). Busier than bees, they scurried silently to prepare every last decoration, to move furniture from storage and into the main ballroom, to cook lavish meals that no one truly needed but everyone would gladly eat.

And then there was the second activity. Business. Politics. Negotiations over finances as various governments crafted intimate alliances. It was to these meetings during the first full day on Eufornis Major that you found yourself as you silently shadowed General Hux.

First Order captains kept in a tight circle around their general during each meeting, sometimes blocking your sight of the only person whom you actually cared about. You recognised all of them from the _Finalizer_ and Starkiller Base, and they were infuriating you more than usual. Normally, you could handle the captains. They were obnoxious but ignorable when on base. But here, they were like insects as they crawled around Hux. They stole his time with their sucking up to gain favours or to give recommendations that were neither needed nor appreciated. And then they would form their tight pack around him, bumping you aside so that you were shoved behind all of them. It was as though they had decided that all former protocol was unnecessary on this foreign planet, which was made all the worse when considering the news that you had received the night before from Anna and Raph's hacker, Breeah.

You had spent all night awake. Try as you might to catch some sleep, the threat of an attack from the inside was enough to keep you vigilant. Sitting on the far end of the bed as General Hux slept, you kept a watchful eye on every entrance to the room—the door to your right and four arches open to the patio on your left. Too many ways to get inside. Too many ways to attack. Too many threats. No wonder you couldn't handle the captains' bullshit. No sleep and high stress would do that to anyone.

Within a cavernous meeting room of marble tiles and carved stone was the largest meeting among the visiting dignitaries and politicians, and it was here that you could finally lean against a stone pillar directly behind General Hux and have a full view of everyone in the room. Forty planets and organisations were represented at a long table, with Hux and Kylo Ren at one end and the other end left open for the royals of Eufornis Major, though they had yet to arrive. You kept your arms crossed, black scarf tugged over your nose and mouth and hair falling over the sides of your face. It would have been great camouflage in the dark, but against the white marble and stone, you stuck out like a sore thumb.

To General Hux's left sat one of his captains—Captain Teobalt, whom you had met before on several occasions and who had shown a strong disliking to your position as former-assassin turned body-guard. He was speaking in a hushed voice with the politician beside him as Hux sat silently and tapped his gloved fingers against the table. He and Kylo Ren both stared forward, waiting.

Their wait did not last for long.

A large door behind the two empty seats was opened, and you knew without question that the two people to emerge were the king and princess of Eufornis Major. As Hux had informed you, they were both extremely tall and devastatingly attractive in a way that genetics and money didn't seem to fully explain. King Clovis had an air about him that brought the room to silence. He stood proud, skin a golden tan and a well-manicured, reddish-brown beard enhancing the strong features of his face. Quite unlike his servants who were in uniforms of stark white, he wore robes of deep maroon and black leather boots with sharp, metal spikes lining the toe and heel. He stood behind his seat and pulled at the chair beside him so that it was ready for his pride and glory. The crown princess. Regine.

She was a Knight of Ren in every way. Like her father before her, she walked with power and a regal grace, but at the same time, she seemed feral. Her beauty was sharp, with high, arched brows and light brown hair pulled tightly back into a bun. Dark, kohl-lined eyes scanned the room as she entered, wearing form-fitting black and holding a helmet beneath her arm so that it could rest against her hip. Hux had been correct. She was beautiful. But she also appeared lethal in a way that only Kylo Ren and Raph could manage. Her gaze was visceral, and a shiver ran down your spine, settling deep inside you.

Without hesitation, Regine sat down and placed her pristine helmet directly before her, and then King Clovis sat beside her. As the double doors behind them swung closed, a black gloved hand stopped one of the doors, and in slipped someone who was, without doubt, a Knight of Ren. Masked in a charred, disfigured helmet was Salim Ren, the final of the knights and the one who had been training Regine for many months. Like you, he stayed standing, leaning against the double doors so that he could keep an eye on everyone in the room. _Unlike_ you, he was a massive man—tall like Kylo Ren—and he carried a lightsabre in his left hand, his fingers rubbing over the metal hilt.

You faced him from the opposite side of the room and narrowed your eyes. He was stock still, but you could feel vibrations in the air between him and Regine. It was an energy that you had only felt before from Kylo Ren when he had filtered through your thoughts using the Force, and you realised then that the three of them were immensely powerful and sharing thoughts within the silence of the room.

Like a snap, the air lightened when General Hux gave a greeting to King Clovis, and the formalities of politics began. For several hours, there were negotiations over trade and finance, transportation routes to avoid the New Republic, memories of the long-lost Empire. But all of the discussion passed through one ear and out of the other as you watched the three knights. Each were so still, but you couldn't help wondering what kind of conversation was going on between them as they stared forward. You couldn't rip your gaze from Regine's face—the way her eyes would occasionally narrow or dark lips would twitch at the same moment that Kylo Ren's posture would shift. And then Salim's fingers would pause momentarily against his lightsabre before tapping once again. They were so agitated.

So were you.

Captain Teobalt was now engaging several of the dignitaries about financing, and he chanced a look at you as an ambassador was speaking. There was a brief moment where his eyes narrowed toward you, and he pulled a hand through his dark blond hair with a huff. It was the type of look that conveyed so many frustrations that he couldn't quite put them into words. It was the expression of a man who didn't want to see you there—who didn't understand your purpose and didn't _want_ to understand. He simply wanted to see you gone. And in response, you gave a sarcastic wink, and he rolled his eyes, glaring at the wood grain of the table for the duration of the meeting.

As the meeting drew to an end before supper, General Hux stood from his seat and stretched his tight muscles with a grimace.

“Was that as dull for you as it was for me?” he asked without really expecting an answer. You shrugged in response and stepped closer to form a tight triangle with Hux and Kylo Ren.

“So, what's next on the agenda?” you asked.

Hux sighed, rubbing at his temples whilst thinking, but Ren motioned his helmeted head toward Regine and Salim who were both standing on the other side of the room and speaking with a crown prince of another planet.

“You become introduced to the remaining knights,” Ren answered. He led you over to Regine and Salim, instantly intimidating the prince to scurry away to his fellow royals. Regine looked down at you, her thin, curving lips in a frown as her eyes flickered from Ren to you and back.

“So, this is the assassin?” she asked, her voice light and posh like Hux's. Ren nodded, and Regine raised an eyebrow. “But she will remain only as much, correct? I'd hate to see yet another Knight who is not Force-sensitive. Clees and Kelakh are difficult enough to work alongside.”

Ren's fingers momentarily balled, but he straightened them and a low hiss could be heard through his voice modulator. Not a single movement was missed by Regine.

“They are loyal and skilled,” Ren corrected her.

“My apologies, Lord Ren.” Regine gave the slightest bow of her head but didn't appear in the least bit sorry for her statement. If anything, there was a satisfied smirk on her face.

As for Salim, you could just see the movement of his eyes from beneath an open slit in his melted helmet and could tell that he was analysing your every feature. And like lightning striking through your mind, you could feel him. Feel him digging, searching. Rummaging through your brain so roughly that you hissed aloud. All of the sounds of the room—the talking, the movement of chairs against the marble floor, the footsteps—it was so loud. So incredibly loud until it was deafening. Until you could see the vibrations of the sounds in your sight, warbling the floor and feet beneath you. You shut your eyes, teeth clenched as your hand was brought to your head, clutching a handful of hair and pulling.

The noise was still getting louder. But how? How could it _possibly_ get louder? Stars! It felt like your head would explode as he yanked at more thoughts, pounding his way through barriers in your memory that you hadn't even known existed. Flashes of memories warped in angry swirls—memories of Raph, of fear coursing through your veins. Visions were slamming against your skull so that you could see every time that Raph had come at you with a weapon, every time that he had harmed you, had thrown you against a wall, had left you in conditions that should have killed you. You saw yourself at the age of thirteen—half a life ago—so sad and so scared as a minimal amount of credits was traded for your life. The cold metal chains that had bound you were back, and you could feel them weighing heavily against your wrists. Feel the ice of the metal. Smell the market where Raph first saw you and decided that, without a doubt, you would belong to _him_.

Your knees were wobbling, shoulders shaking as you clutched your hair, pulling and pulling to relieve the pressure. A voice was shouting in your head. Wait... _In_ your head? No. Right behind? Yes, it was coming from behind.

“What are you doing?” it barked.

You saw nothing but the visions flashing through your mind, but you could hear that voice breaking through all other sounds.

“Stop this immediately!”

Hux. It was _Hux's_ voice. And then you felt a hand at your upper arm that tried to pull you back to standing. You hadn't even been aware that you were on your knees until that moment.

Like another spark, you felt Salim leave your mind all together, and you gasped for breath as the sound returned to normal. Your eyes opened to see the floor below, but it was blurred by tears that you hadn't even been aware of crying. Glancing up, you saw Kylo Ren grabbing hold of Salim's arm and Regine rolling her eyes at both of them as she walked away to join her father in an adjoining room where drinks were being served. No one else in the room showed any indication of having seen Salim's use of the Force, and you were thankful. At least you had been quiet through the suffering. All of that noise had only been in your head. Your pounding heart was only discernible to you.

Hux turned you around, pulling you along with him to exit the room and go down a nearly empty hall. Legs wobbly and tears now falling down your cheeks to soak into your scarf, you let him lead the way without any question. He stopped at the first marble archway leading to a patio and pulled you outside to lean against a large stone railing that overlooked a massive garden of emerald hedge mazes.

Slumping over the railing, you shut your eyes and ripped the scarf from your face to catch your breath. Hux's hand was still holding onto your upper arm, squeezing hard but trembling.

“He should have never done that,” Hux hissed, and you could feel his nails digging into your arm. “ _Never_. Son of a bitch.”

His hand moved from your arm to your hair, and he pulled it from your face. Without thinking, you flinched away from the movement and stumbled to the side away from him. He had been gentle as he moved, but even that much seemed terrifying. And why? You hated it. Hated the way that you were always flinching in fear of an attack when Hux was the last person who was going to harm you. Swallowing hard, you turned around and slumped down the side of the railing so that you were sitting on your bottom with knees drawn up to your chest and arms wrapping around your legs.

Your eyes were shut again as you tried to calm your beating heart, but it was running too quickly. What the fuck had Salim done? Kylo Ren had gone into your mind countless times, but it had never been so brutal. Salim's intrusion had felt more like a ferocious attack than a search for information.

General Hux slowly slid down to the tiles and sat beside you, but this time, he didn't reach for you.

“I hadn't expected Salim to attack your mind,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you answered, voice muffled against your legs. “Neither had I.”

“He did the same to me once. I nearly had him killed afterwards, but Ren would not allow it. Apparently, Salim greets those he sees as possible equals by invading their minds and judging their response. It's his way of testing you. He told me after ripping through my brain that we were now on the same footing—that he had seen enough of my most private thoughts to now trust me. But if I was to be honest, I think that he tears through the minds of others as a form of intimidation. Or possibly because he just enjoys the feeling of destruction.”

You took in the information, vowing to never get close to Salim again. Whether or not you were now equals to one another, you weren't likely to forgive such an attack.

“Did he bring back your worst memories?” you asked.

Hux was quiet for a moment. “The _very_ worst.”

Your face was still hidden against your knees, but you unlaced your right arm from around your legs and let it bump against Hux's thigh. Immediately, he reached for your hand, giving it a squeeze with his cold fingers.

“Thanks,” you sighed. “You shouldn't've had to protect me. That's _my_ job.”

Just by the way he answered you—the way his voice lilted—you could tell that he was smiling. He repeated something he had said when you had been bleeding on your shared mission, and it made your heart calm.

“I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't _want_ to do so,” he repeated as he laced his fingers with your own. And then he laughed. “Besides... If my bodyguard is not kept safe, then I'm a dead man.”

* * *

 

The next day was a flurry of motion around you as the hundreds of guests got ready for the gala. Even in the morning, you saw people in every sort of exotic fashion to represent their home planets, and you had never seen anything quite like it. The extravagance was enough to be sickening.

Hux had dressed early before attending a meeting with the Knights and King Clovis. It didn't surprise you to see him in his usual dark grey uniform, but he pulled out a crimson sash to go over it with the First Order insignia stitched along running ribbons of real gold. It was such a small addition to the uniform, but it made him look absolutely regal.

Meanwhile, you were still dressed in black trousers and a long-sleeved shirt with your scarf hiding most of your face as you followed him. There would be time to get ready... _eventually_. You weren't quite sure _when_ that would be, but you would find time in maybe the last half our before the even started. How difficult could it be to pull on a dress and clean your boots? Hux, on the other hand, seemed to be nervous that you were waiting until the very last moment to get ready, and after the second meeting of the day, he dismissed you to prepare for the gala.

“What do you mean I'm _'dismissed'_?” you snapped as he stood beside Kylo Ren and waited for King Clovis to re-enter the room after a brief break.

“I mean that you should ready yourself--”

“And leave you defenceless?”

Hux rolled his eyes and motioned toward Kylo Ren and Regine. “I am in plenty capable of hands. Two hours outside of those watchful eyes of yours shouldn't kill me.”

You bit your tongue, wanting to argue, but the stern look upon his face said that it was a command. Cringing, you returned back to your room, hoping all the while that nothing would happen as you left him. Yes, Kylo Ren was capable of protecting General Hux, but damn it, that was _your_ job! And the anxiety bubbled in your stomach the entire time that you were separated from him.

Sitting at the dresser and large mirror in your and Hux's shared room, you stared straight forward with a frown. The dress from Amena was hanging behind you, and you looked at the details in the mirror's reflection. Stars, it was too beautiful. The dress was a fitted kaftan in black, but gold, silver, and white stitching and beads ran from the high collar, down the bust, and then to the waist where it was belted. The same patterns ran along the bell-shaped long sleeves and bottom of the dress where it flared. With the lightest touch, you pulled it from the hanger and held it for a moment. The fabric was so slick. So smooth. So expensive. What if you ripped it? What if you got blood on it and disappointed Amena? How much did a dress like this cost to replace?

Shaking your head to clear all of the oppressive thoughts, you pulled the dress over your head, snapped the hidden buttons up to your throat, and tightened the belt. Staring at your reflection was surreal. Sitting back down, you let your eyes trace along the shape of the collar against your neck and started to pull your loose hair back. You had no idea what you were doing, but you pinned it into place in a messy knot and then looped the golden chain from Amena over your hair so that the grey jewel could rest on your forehead.

“I'm a damn princess,” you mumbled, staring at the unfamiliar reflection.

Checking the time, you had fifteen minutes before the start of the gala. With a deep breath, you attached your blaster to the outside of your thigh and a thin knife against your inner wrist so that they would be hidden by the dress. Then pulling the matching shawl over your shoulders, you made your way to the palace's grand ballroom.

Crowds of politicians and wealthy donors were gathered in the hallways, all dressed elaborately and drinking their champagne as they chatted. You pushed through groups of attendees, searching for red hair, searching for Kylo Ren's helmet, searching for anyone in the First Order. You saw Captain Teobalt who seemed taken back with you as you passed, and he walked beside you, eyes wide as he scanned your dress, your hair, your jewellery.

“I won't lie—I didn't expect you to look decent,” he commented as you continued to search for General Hux.

“What's that supposed to mean?” you asked without even looking at him.

He seemed put off by your question. “I was giving you a compliment.”

“Well, you aren't very good at it.”

Your attention was still focused on looking for Hux, but Captain Teobalt grabbed your arm, his palm against the hidden knife under your sleeve. His eyebrows narrowed, and you swatted his hand away.

“How dare you,” he hissed. Teobalt grabbed again, this time trying to move your sleeve so that he could see the knife, and within the blink of an eye, you blocked his hand with your arm and then punched with your other hand into his stomach. He gasped, stumbling slightly as a few politicians watched on, slightly alarmed. You glanced at them and then back to the captain who was clutching his stomach as he stared wide eyed at the floor.

Walking back up to Captain Teobalt, you grabbed him by the collar and backed him into a wall beside a gaggle of women who quickly tripped away.

“Listen, you little shit,” you whispered, embracing the irony that he was actually far larger than you but completely at your mercy. “I know you don't like me. It's pretty damn obvious. But if you touch me again—particularly my weapons—I swear to the stars that I will crush your groin and then snap your neck.”

Teobalt's eyes revealed his nervousness, but his voice was firm. “You aren't a part of the First Order. Not really. Your threats toward me place you in a position where I could report you, and not even the general could protect you from the consequences. Tell me, what does he see in you?”

You shoved him again, and he let out an involuntary gasp. “He sees one hell of a good assassin. Now fuck off. He's my only priority right now.”

Letting go of Teobalt, you immediately turned around and shoved your way further through the crowd, thoroughly losing him behind you. Pushing past more groups of chattering attendees, you finally saw the top of Kylo Ren's helmet. He sensed you coming and turned, his body freezing momentarily at the sight of you, but then he was back to business as usual. He stepped up to the closed doors of the ballroom and unlocked the doors with a simple flick of his fingers, and you quickly stepped inside as he closed the door behind you.

Suddenly, the noise of all the guests was muted, and you looked out to see the nearly empty ballroom in front of you. The high ceilings of carved marble were inlaid with jade and sapphire, and open arches connected to a massive patio that overflowed with potted plants. The décor was lavish, strikingly beautiful. White and earthy green and blending the aesthetic of plants and hard stone so seamlessly that it was difficult to tell the difference between them. Servants were still running about to finish last minute preparations, and the king was seated at a long table with Regine and Salim who were talking with a few guests who had been allowed inside early. Round tables were situated around the entire perimeter of the room—enough to seat at least five hundred people—and each had burning candles at their centre surrounded by exotic plants and blown glass. And in the middle of the room was a massive dance floor with a single person standing in its centre.

General Hux was stopped in the middle of the dance floor, caught halfway between a step when his sea-glass eyes went wide at your presence. His jaw had dropped, and he slowly moved forward as though in a daze until he was a step away.

“Stars, you clean up well,” he muttered, caught up with looking at how the dress fit your body. “Beautifully, even.” He reached forward, his finger running along the golden chains that lied daintily over your hair and then tapping on the grey gem at your forehead.

“You're staring,” you chuckled, remembering how he had said the same thing to you the other night.

He nodded his head, looking as though he couldn't quite form the words that he wanted. “Yes...” Hux answered after a few seconds. “How could I not?”

At that moment, your fingers itched to move forward, to glide over his shoulders and lock behind his neck so that you could pull him closer. But you kept them straight at your side, attempting at least _some_ level of professionalism. Now wasn't the time and _certainly_ wasn't the place to reveal how much you wanted to kiss him or how much you could have backed him against a wall as your fingers slid up his military uniform. You tried to shake the image from your head, instead remembering that your prime objective was to keep him safe from attack.

But what you wouldn't give at that moment to be attacking him with your lips.

General Hux took your hand in his and began to lead you to the long table where the royals sat. Kylo Ren and Salim had taken places to Regine's left, and the two empty seats on the right of the King were still open. It took you a moment to realise that those seats were meant for both you and General Hux, and you could feel your stomach doing flips.

“I shouldn't be seated,” you whispered as he pulled a chair at the end for you. “I should stand behind you like I always do. This is too public.”

Hux shook his head with a brief frown. “I am far too weary of you staying in the shadows.”

“I'm a creature of the dark. That's where I belong.”

“Not tonight.”

General Hux sat beside you just as the main doors to the ballroom were opened, and a flood of guests poured into the room. They were a swarm of bees, all flashy and buzzing as they moved from one table to another. It was chaos as you watched from the long table, but at the same time, it was a celebratory chaos that confused you. Or at least it was joyful until you noticed the First Order captains enter the room and Captain Teobalt in the middle of the posy like he owned them. You rolled your eyes at him, which Hux immediately noticed but didn't press you on. His conversation with the king took precedence, anyway.

It took a while, but eventually all of the guests took seats at various tables, and the white-clad servants began to serve a lavish feast. Roast poultry on platters of vegetables and rice were sent to each table, along with silver pitchers of wine and roasted fruits. A servant came before you, already pouring wine into your glass, but you shooed him away. The last thing you needed was a chemical to alter your state of awareness. Alcohol was nothing but trouble. Hux, on the other hand, did not seem as concerned as both he and King Clovis shared a deep violet wine from the same bottle.

Just as the dinner was to begin, King Clovis stood for an address, his voice amplified by the architecture of the hall. He looked about the massive room, thanking individual guests for their large contributions to the First Order—it wasn't cheap to be a guest at the gala, after all, and all proceeds went directly to the Order.

“And to General Hux of the First Order,” he said, holding his glass before him as though ready to give cheers, “I give my eternal thanks. No other man has done so much to restore balance to this galaxy after the fall of the Empire. You are a testament to the dedication of the First Order and Supreme Leader Snoke's guidance.” Here, he held his glass of wine high into the air. “May we be calling you _Emperor_ in a few years' time rather than just _General_.”

At once, everyone in the room raised their glasses of wine and then drank. Well, accept for you. Admittedly, this all seemed rather contrived, and you took a sip of your water instead.

And then King Clovis turned to his daughter, who stood beside him in a black gown of tight fitting lace with embroidered roses to match the same maroon worn by her father, and a golden crown sat on her head. Clovis held his wine again, but the cadence of his voice had changed. Where it had been overtly formal, it was now slightly emotional. It was honest, low and husky like the crashing of waves over jagged rocks—and just as dangerous.

“Then to my daughter, who will be a Knight as fearsome as Kylo Ren, I give all my love. May you make me proud as you serve our Supreme Leader.” King Clovis then quickly drained the wine from his glass and set it on the table as everyone else took their second drink of wine. Everyone except for Kylo Ren and Salim, who both still wore their helmets with no intention of revealing their faces during the event. The King then turned to his guests and encouraged them to eat, and the roar of conversation and clattering silverware filled the room.

King Clovis sat back down beside Hux and stared forward at the filled ballroom, a smile twitching on his lips. “Have you ever seen such a strong backing of the First Order's interests, General? The Order will make more money tonight than it has in the past three years. Mark my words.”

Hux nodded, looking satisfied as he finished his glass of wine. “I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

“No,” Clovis said with a smile as he began to eat. “There is always a way to repay someone—only the future has yet to reveal it. My planet will support the Order, and the Order will support my planet. It is as simple as that.”

“Certainly,” Hux replied without missing a beat. He knew how to play this game. “Eufornis Major will be our most solid ally in the fight against the Republic.”

“Your father would be proud,” Clovis mentioned before turning to his daughter and Kylo Ren who were engaged in conversation.

A sour look had spread over Hux's face at that moment, and the bite of food that had been nearly to his mouth now hovered in the air. He set the fork down on his plate and clenched his teeth, taking in a deep, erratic breath.

You tilted your head to the side, watching as he regained composure and then took a bite. But he chewed the bite of meat as though he was a wolf finally having caught its prey. It was a raw, emotional action that seemed so unlike his usual behaviour marked by control and precision. Whatever it was about mentioning Hux's father had unsettled him, and your curiosity was difficult to resist.

“General,” you whispered, remembering to not call him by his name in public. “What--”

He interrupted you immediately with a hand held up. “Not here.”

You nodded, knowing that it would take privacy for Hux to reveal his secrets.

Music flowed through the hall as the dinner proceeded, a five part band playing various instruments in the corner of the dance floor. Your eyes flitted from the band to the guests, watching for any indication of attack, waiting for a blaster to be revealed or knife to be thrown. Thus far, there was nothing, but that didn't mean the night was over or that you could let down your guard. If Anna and Breeah were correct—and they usually were—an attack was imminent, and you'd be damned to let it happen under your watch.

Guests who had finished eating were now visiting with other tables and moving onto the dance floor, which was only further encouraged by King Clovis as he took his daughter's hand and danced with her in the centre. After the dance, he began to direct more dignitaries and politicians toward the massive marble dance floor, and Hux shot an anxious glance toward you.

You narrowed your eyes at him, mouth falling slightly open. “Don't even _dare_ tell me you're willing to put yourself at risk in the middle of that damned dance floor.”

He sighed but reached for your hand, palms sweating. You could see him swallow a nervous lump that had lodged in his throat, and he tugged absent-mindedly at the tight military collar that was pressed against his neck. With a flinch that didn't go unnoticed, you squeezed his hand back and followed him toward the throngs of dancers. It was against your better judgement, but Hux seemed rather determined to get you there.

“Have you ever danced?” he asked, staring straight forward toward an area of dark marble that was still open.

You shook your head. “Never. You?”

“Yes,” he responded curtly. “Mandatory lessons of my youth, though it's been a rather long time since those days.” He stopped at the patch of dark marble that had been cut into a starburst pattern, and he rolled his shoulders back, standing at full attention before you. “If you follow my lead, you will be fine. Though _please_ try not to embarrass me--”  
“Have I embarrassed you yet?” you fired back, raising an eyebrow and letting Hux guide your hands to his shoulders. You had been on your best behaviour thus far. Or at least your best behaviour when around _him_. You couldn't say as much around Captain Teobalt earlier in the evening.

Hux didn't respond but placed one of his hands on the small of your back and then the other at your chin for just a moment. His thumb trailed along your jawline, following the same pattern where he had kissed a line that continued down your neck. He bit at his bottom lip, wishing that he could do the same thing here. But that would be too irresponsible. He couldn't let anyone know how much he desired you. Not here. Not yet.

You could feel his pulse through his thumb as it tracked down your neck and then eventually settled on your hip.

“Why are you so nervous?” you whispered as the music started up, and he began to move. Your feet followed his, moving a little too slow for the beat of the music. Each of Hux's movements was precise as he pulled you along. Those dance lessons had certainly paid off. He was excellent. But that didn't stop him from sweating bullets as you both twisted between couples on the dance floor.

His grip tightened ever so slightly against your hip as he moved you in a circle. “I'm not nervous.”

“Yes you are. Don't lie to me,” you scolded. He scoffed and let go of your hip so that he could twirl you in a circle before him. Your dress fluttered—black and gold and silver before his dark grey uniform—and loose strands of hair whipped into your face for a moment, eyes wide as you spun. As a second and then third turn came about, he pulled you back to him, and once again, you were following his footsteps.

“I would only be nervous that someone was watching us too closely,” Hux finally commented. His sea-glass eyes were narrowed at the crowd, searching for silent killers.

You scanned the area as well, picking out the First Order captains from the crowd. Captain Teobalt was over at a table with three other captains and two Storm Troopers, and he was staring directly at you. It wasn't the same look of narrowed eyes that he had been giving you lately but a look of absolute horror. He could have seen a ghost with the way that his blue eyes had gotten dangerously wild. General Hux spun you once more, and when you looked back to the First Order captains, Teobalt's face had changed once more. The horror still lingered but was being replaced by a steely determination that was born of hatching fury. Then he tore his eyes from you, and a dancing couple moved in to block your view.

Hux followed your line of vision, and he pulled you closer to him, his hand at your lower back quickly moving up to your shoulder blades to silently tell anyone nearby that you were his. It was protective, reassuring. Relaxing, you shifted focus back on him, studying his face. The curve of his lips, those light red eyebrows framing blue-green eyes, the cheekbones that could make him look both gaunt and powerful at the same time... When had he become so attractive? So enticing?

The music ended to the sound of various applause, and you stood before General Hux, still embraced against him. Your breath was caught in your throat, and you watched as he swallowed nervously once more. His crystaline eyes were watching you as though you were the only one in the universe who existed. His gaze transferred from the hair that was falling heavily from your messy updo and then to your lips that trembled at seeing him in this unfamiliar and dangerous place.

“What is it?” you whispered. His other hand was still holding yours, fingers tapping against your knuckles.

“It's you,” he admitted. His heart was beating like a drum against his ribcage, and he took a small step forward to close in any remaining space between the two of you. Once more, his hand was at your jaw, fingers hardly touching you as they slid behind your neck. “You have managed to bewitch me.”

Your lips pulled into a smile, and you let your hands rest once more on his shoulders. “Good. That makes us even.”

And then he chanced a smile as well. It was nervous but more genuine than you had seen in a long time. “I'm satisfied to hear as much.”

Still grinning, General Hux kept one hand behind your back to guide you along to a group of guests who were in the midst of an animated conversation. Kylo Ren stood to the side of them, listening as they discussed his personal achievements. His mask hid his face, but Ren's body language was all that was needed to tell that he was extremely uncomfortable. Small talk and crowds had never been to his liking, and he dug his gloved fingers into tightened muscles as he kept his arms crossed over his chest. He only seemed to perk up once you and Hux were beside him.

General Hux was good at small talk. He may not have been a fan of such vapid conversation, but he understood its purpose. And right now, anything that could place him further in favour with the wealthy elite was in his best interests. You stood beside Ren, listening as Hux and a visiting royal couple spoke about particularly oppressive Republic laws and obnoxious Resistance fighters. It was all rather mundane.

A ripple of foreign thoughts dripped into your mind, and you could feel Kylo Ren sitting in your consciousness, light as a feather.

 _“Don't think that I didn't notice you and the general,”_ Kylo Ren silently informed. _“I have never once seen him lose himself with another person as he just did.”_

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from speaking aloud. _“I'm discovering a new talent, Ren. Apparently, it's the ability to seduce First Order generals. Who knew_ that _was possible?”_

He chuckled a little in your mind, and before pulling away, spoke once more. _“Don't be so certain that you're a seductress. The general is plenty in control of his desires and wants.”_

And then his voice was gone, leaving you to repeat what he had said over and over again, trying to fully understand what he had meant. But there was little time to dwell as two First Order captains pushed their way into the circle of conversation, both simultaneously boasting and sucking up to General Hux. And behind the talkative captains was Captain Teobalt, listening intently and trying his best to avoid eye contact with both you and Kylo Ren.

The conversation had only continued on for a minute when Kylo Ren's voice broke through, abruptly halting everyone else. “Captain, do say that aloud,” he said, taking a step forward into the circle.

For a moment, no one knew what was actually occurring. The three captains in the circle were all wide-eyed, wondering to which of them Ren was referring, but it became all too clear in a moment that Kylo Ren was speaking directly to Captain Teobalt.

“Say what you were thinking,” Kylo Ren explained, his voice becoming taunting from beneath his mask. The sound slithered, sending goosebumps down your arms.

“Whatever do you mean--”

“Don't play stupid; I've been in your mind since you arrived.”

Captain Teobalt looked momentarily ashamed, his posture becoming hunched as he took the tiniest step back. Ren seemed to find this amusing and stepped up to him closer. He reached his arm between the other two captains and dragged Teobalt to the centre of the circle.

“Well, if you aren't interested in telling them, I will,” Ren mused. Turning toward General Hux, Kylo Ren gave a mechanical laugh. “Your captain isn't very fond of your body-guard.”

“Tell me something that I _didn't_ know,” Hux replied, keeping his voice low and speaking a little too quickly. This was exactly the kind of drama he had wanted to avoid during this event, and now Kylo Ren was going and ruining everything.

Ren continued. “Yes, but do you know _why_? He thinks that she's a threat to the stabilisation of both the Knights of Ren as well as the First Order. Apparently, she has been given too much power. Too much... How did you put it in your mind? _Preferential treatment?_ Yes. That's how you thought it. You fear that she would tear down the entire Order, leaving it in ruins. Stars, your mind has been active. I could hear it from across the room, complaining on and on about her. Bitching and moaning.”

Letting go of Captain Teobalt, Kylo Ren took a step back toward you, and the captain sputtered, trying to cover his own ass after being called out. “I have merely been _concerned_ , General. The First Order is to what I give my full allegiance, and I would have it guarded from outsiders.”

Hux looked across at the man with narrowed eyes, his jaw clenched tight as though he had been personally attacked. “If you think ill of her, then you think ill of me. My judgement of her character is sound—unlike yours.”

Captain Teobalt seemed to quiver for a moment and then backed out of the circle, apologising profusely. Sweat was dripping from his forehead as he turned around. “Let me... Let me buy you drinks. As my apology.” He quickly pulled a few credits from his pocket and scurried off to the cash bar like a mouse running from a cat.

“Well, that was informative,” you said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the circle of onlooking dignitaries and First Order military. Hux sighed beside you and ran his fingers down your back, letting his hand rest on your hip so that he could keep you close to him.

“Informative in the sense that I foresee a disciplinary hearing in the near future,” he groaned.

Captain Teobalt came back after a minute holding two glasses of amber whiskey, sloshing about as he steadied himself. He handed one to General Hux and then as he handed you the other glass, his fingers seemed to slip, sending the glass crashing down upon your inner forearm. Instantly, the full glass slammed down on the knife hidden beneath your sleeve, and the blade sliced down on your flesh. In the time it took to gasp, the glass had shattered onto the floor, sending whiskey and shards of glass all over the floor.

Your eyes locked on the broken glass by your feet and instinctively pushed General Hux a step back as though the shards would be enough to harm him. A sting was at your inner arm, and you pulled away the bell-shaped sleeve to see a long gash from the knife running from your wrist to half way toward your elbow. A snaking ribbon of blood wrapped around your arm to drip onto the floor, mixing with the whiskey. It was as the blood diffused into the amber liquid that you realised this was not a simple slip of the hand. This was not a mistake. It was intentional.

“You knew my knife was there,” you said, still looking down at the floor. You rolled the sleeve of the dress up higher so that your arm was entirely exposed. They could see everything: the knife still strapped in place, the long slice, the blood. A few gasps could be heard from the nearby guests who had stopped to see why the glass had been dropped. You finally looked Captain Teobalt dead in the eyes. “You grabbed my arm earlier today. Twice. And you just tried to send the blade into my arm.”

Teobalt's face was ashen, lower lip twitching as he stood completely still. “An accident--”

General Hux interrupted him, “Ren, what is the truth?”

Kylo Ren held up a hand, freezing Captain Teobalt in place with the Force. “He's a liar. His purpose was to send the knife into her artery and sacrifice himself for the good of the First Order.”

Instinctively, you clutched your forearm, feeling the blood seeping between your fingers. Hux let out a low growl from behind you and pushed forward, grabbing Captain Teobalt by the wrist and nearly dragging him from the circle and toward the double doors of the room's entrance, and the two First Order captains quickly followed behind him. You stepped over the broken glass, briefly looking over your shoulder at the mess of blood and whiskey, all glittering against the white marble.

“It didn't hit an artery, though,” you mumbled as Kylo Ren stepped beside you.

“No,” he agreed, and then he ushered you forward. “But he also poisoned it. Teobalt intended to kill you tonight one way or another, even if it meant his own death.”

You frowned, not feeling particularly threatened by Teobalt's poor attempts at your life—obviously, he was no assassin—but wondering if this had been the attack that Anna and Breeah had warned about. It seemed too minor. There was no way to tell, and so you stayed on your guard as you followed Kylo Ren.

In the hallway, a small crowd had gathered to watch as Captain Teobalt was backed against one of the marble pillars by General Hux who glared at him with eyes that could kill.

“I thought that I was going to be approving the documents for your disciplinary hearing tonight, but as it stands, you have upgraded yourself to 'attempted murder',” Hux barked. His face was contorted in anger, and he pulled a small blaster from one of the captains beside him, aiming it directly between Teobalt's blue eyes. Hux motioned with a flick of his head toward the other captains who watched from behind. “Arrest him and place him on your ship. He will stand trial and die before the week has ended.”

The two captains looked to their general in shock but slowly moved in to follow his orders. They pulled Captain Teobalt's arms behind his back and began to walk him through the crowd that was murmuring their half-formed gossip. And as the captains disappeared from sight, Hux turned around, bumping straight into you and Kylo Ren.

He looked beside himself as he faced you, and Kylo Ren pulled Hux's arm, leading him out of an archway and onto a patio. With an outstretched hand threatening to use the Force, he sent the guests of the patio scattering so that they would have to watch from inside the hallway.

Hux sat hard upon a stone bench and threw off his military cap so that he could run his fingers through his hair and cringe. “Son of a bitch,” he cursed under his breath. “Son of a _fucking bitch_.”

You sat beside him as Ren lingered before both of you, watching the crowd. “I don't trust your captains, General. None of them,” he commented whilst turning around. “They need my supervision.” He shoved past several guests who were still too intimidated to step onto the patio and ask for clarification from General Hux.

Your arm had stopped bleeding, but you held it away from your body. Amena's threat lingered in your head to not get any blood on the dress, and so far, you had somehow succeeded at that. Hux took a single look at your arm and began cursing again.

“Is it deep?”

“No. If he was aiming for the artery, he failed at it.”

He took your right arm in his hands, taking a closer look at the slice that ran along the blade. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

His fingers slipped down to hold onto your hand, which he grasped whilst trying to place his voice back into its usual control. “He _will_ die because of this. There will be a trial, of course, but he will.”

“More of those First Order formalities... Why not just kill him now? It's not like Ren couldn't just slice him with his sabre and save you a whole lot of trouble.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “Formalities exist for a reason--”

He was cut off, because a shadow moved past as someone walked onto the patio from the outdoors. Standing tall and proud, but unquestionably curious, was Princess Regine and Salim following directly behind her. She merely looked down her nose at both you and Hux for a moment, eyes slowly moving to your arm. Pulling a comm from her pocket, she spoke softly to inform her father of your whereabouts, and he came along after only a minute, drink in hand.

“Well, General, I don't believe that this... _situation_... was your intention for the gala, but I cannot deny that you got my guests talking. _'Tough on crime_ _and battling corruption'_ I heard one of them say about the arrest. They enjoyed the show.”

Hux took in a deep breath and composed himself within a second, putting on the façade of the general he knew he could be. “It was a spectacle of which I'm embarrassed, but by all means, sell it as entertainment.”

The king gave a long laugh that was caught somewhere between sarcasm and pity, and he turned around toward his guests, open armed and pretending that all was well. Regine watched him leave and turned to Hux, completely ignoring you.

“He can sell any story you wish. You know as much,” she whispered. Then she turned to Salim, a conversation running rapidly in their minds as they followed behind King Clovis. They were the agents of damage control, ready to sway the night's events in any way to gain more donations, more loyalty. Lighten spirits and twist the gossip to fit their version of events. By morning, the guests would be telling tales of drunken shenanigans rather than attempted murder.

They became nothing more than shadows, leaving both you and Hux alone on the dark patio beneath millions of stars. You watched the guests as they stopped paying any attention to either of you, eventually forgetting that you had gone outside at all. And as they passed by, laughing, drinking, comparing gowns and robes, Hux stayed beside you. His fingers ran up and down your exposed arm, his thumb slowly tracing along the pattern of dried blood. Ever so gently, he detached the blade from your arm all together and set it on the ground.

“Do you think Teobalt's right?” you asked him. “That I'm a threat to the First Order?”

Hux thought about it for a moment, mulling over what exactly he wanted to say. “Regardless of whether or not you are, it was not his duty to try and _kill_ you.” He spat the word 'kill'. He had kept a calm face when the royals had been on the patio, but now he didn't bother to hide his rage. “And, honestly, I can already hear the rumours spreading; there won't be a soul who doesn't know the nature of our relationship by the end of the night. Ren's voice was in my head. He saw our dance. Everyone saw it. I wasn't careful, and now aside from the mess of dodging gossip about ourselves, here you are... bloodied once again. How are you so _damned_ calm through all of this?”

In that moment, you could have told him that this was all par for the course. You could have told him that you had been threatened with death so many times that this was nothing in comparison. You could have confessed that Salim's invasion into your mind the day before had been far worse than any attempt at your life by Captain Teobalt or any gossip by people whom you cared nothing for. There had _always_ been far worse. This didn't hurt. It was a scratch. It was nothing.

But instead of speaking, you took a risk.

Wrapping your arms over Hux's shoulders, you leaned forward into his body so that your face was directly before his and loose hair falling over both of your faces. He looked at you in both shock and awe as his hands found their way to your waist, and he pulled you a little closer so that you were pressed to his chest and could feel his formal sash against your stomach.

“If our privacy is gone,” you whispered with lips hovering over his, “then let's make it worth it."

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  **A/N:** idk how this chapter hit 9000 words, but I'm not even sorry. Anyway, our reader's dress is based off of [THESE](http://houseoftombombadil.tumblr.com/post/144985640016/some-fave-abays-from-eastessencecom) kaftans/abayas from EastEssence.com, the first of which is the most beautiful damned thing I've ever put on my body. Princess Regine's gala dress is based off of [THIS](http://houseoftombombadil.tumblr.com/post/112442991076) and [THIS](http://houseoftombombadil.tumblr.com/post/43987020494/mdels-daphne-at-dolce-and-gabbana) dress from Dolce & Gabbana's autumn/winter 2015 and 2013 collections, respectively. There are new face claims up on my [OC Face Claims](http://starkillerscience.tumblr.com/face-claims) page, including Captain Teobalt's, who would be played by Bernhard Forcher.


	16. Stay Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As your relationship with General Hux grows stronger, you begin to contemplate his safety in new ways as Anna delivers the newest developments in Raph's plans against your life.

**Chapter Playlist:** [ Youtube ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2Cti12XBw4&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhaDSq0ZGFzW-aPST-2zhRq8)

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It started with Hux's fingers brushing gently over yours. He had taken your hand in his as soon as you had showed up at his door the morning after landing back upon the  _Finalizer_ . Pulling you inside his quarters, General Hux tucked a hand behind your neck, letting your hair twist between his fingers. He loved that feeling. Loved how the strands of glossy hair could slide in his grasp.

He stood there for a moment, looking exhausted in the early morning. Really, Hux had been exhausted ever since leaving Eufornis Major, with dark circles hanging under his eyes. But even with all of the stress of the First Order gala and the arrest and impending trial of Captain Teobalt, General Hux was still managing to smile as he studied you before him.

How many times had he kissed you since the other night at the gala? Ten? Twenty? Thirty times? You couldn't keep track. Every single possible moment that he could pull you aside, he would to kiss you, to hold you against him as he closed his eyes and sighed. The entire trip back to the  _Finalizer_ had been spent together. As Kylo Ren met with Regine and Salim in the ship's private room, Hux had taken you to the couch to wrap an arm around your waist and keep you close to him. And for pretty much the first time in your life, you were comfortable. More than comfortable, actually. It felt right. Whatever this was, you wanted it to continue.

So when he pulled you inside of his quarters and instantly drew you to him, it was easy to let yourself fall into him. It was easy to kiss him, to pull his collar so that he was even closer. Your fists clenched tightly to his uniform, and he instinctively picked at the buttons near his neck before returning his hands to your hair, to the side of your face, to your neck. Wherever he could reach, he did. Fingers cold but lips hot against your own, he wanted nothing more than to hold you tight.

As his lips trailed down your neck and your fingers dug into his hair, you chuckled. “Don't you have work to get to?”

You could feel his lips forming a smile as he nibbled along your collarbone. “Are you complaining?”

“Of course not.”

You tugged on his uniform again, pulling Hux along as you backed across the room and slammed hard into the wall between his bedroom and a closet. He hit his palm against the wall, and you could feel his hips on your own. For seven in the morning, he had a lot more energy than you had expected.

Honestly, you had no idea what you were doing, but you tried to let your mind shut off as you pushed him back, pinning  _him_ against the wall this time. Hux seemed surprised for just a moment but then was right back to kissing you, his teeth biting at your lips every time you tried to pull away. He was ravenous as he tugged you closer and then rolled to once again have your back to the wall. It was like the dance from the other night, except neither of you were nervous. Neither of you were the prim and proper people that tried to maintain an aura of professionalism among the eyes of many. You were a lioness, and he was a wolf. Two feral beasts taking what they wanted.

Later on, he would say that it was  _your_ fault that he was tw enty minutes late for work that day. But you knew by the way that he grinned to himself with a satisfied smirk that he was just as much to blame. He always would be. Whatever this was, it was equal. It was the joining of two people stronger than anyone would know who took and gave in equal parts, and that was precisely what you had never before had and  _precisely_ what you desired.

“ Twenty minutes late to my first meeting of the day; that's a new record,” Hux muttered to himself as you walked through the halls of the  _Finalizer_ .

You bit your lip for a moment, trying to hide your smile. “Next time, I'll make you two hours late.”

There was a slight falter to Hux's step, but then he continued with his head down, and you could tell that he was blushing a bright red.

Though neither of you were willing to come out and say that there was a relationship blossoming between you, it was plenty obvious to anyone with a working set of eyes and half a brain. Just the way that General Hux looked at you as you followed behind as his personal body-guard was revealing enough. He gave you these glances with a twitch of a smile, which would have been subtle enough, but then your face would pull into a grin that you would have to hide with your black scarf over your face. So much for being such a great actress when out on the kill. When it came to  _him_ , you may as well have been an amateur.

Of course, Kylo Ren already knew the full extent of what was happening between the general and his body-guard. Even if he  _hadn't_ wormed his way into both of your minds, he was perceptive enough that he could have figured it out—which is exactly how most of the other knights came to realise that you were together. Alma had already been informed by Ren when he first found out, but Clees and Kelakh had figured it out on their own shortly after your arrival from Eufornis Major. Graem had most likely known that there was  _something_ happening, but he hadn't been sure of it until being told as much by Regine and Salim, the latter of wh om had managed to see just how you felt when he had so brutally invaded your mind.

And as for the military personnel of the First Order? Captain Phasma had narrowed her eyes at both you and General Hux when you arrived late, and you knew in a second that she knew  _exactly_ what had just happened. Though, bless her, she kept her mouth shut. The other captains? Not as much. Hadn't Hux warned that there were rumours being whispered about you? Well, whispers were far more quiet than what was now being said. They may as well have been shouting with their falling faces and confused but accusatory expressions.

Everyone fucking knew  that you were together.

And nobody was actually saying anything aloud.

Maybe things would have continued like that. Maybe you would have kept showing up earlier and earlier in the mornings until it felt like Hux's quarters were more your own than the room where you had stayed for months. Maybe you would have continued to shove him into alcoves when no one was around on the  _Finalizer_ so that you  c ould bite down his neck as you pressed him against a cold, metal wall and then teased him the rest of the day. Maybe this careless bliss would have continued into something that just felt normal. Maybe. Maybe if you were two  _normal_ people living completely ordinary lives, it could have happened. But you knew as well as he that two people such as yourselves did not have the option of a relationship with a “normal” progression. There were too many impeding variables.

For one thing, you both still had demanding jobs. General Hux was kept continuously busy with the building of the Starkiller Base, which was now projected to have  seven teen months of construction left. Then there were the military drills to command, the political plans to be made, the leadership of a massive organisation. And then there was you—the body-guard. The assassin. The tag-along, unofficial member of the Knights of Ren who could be sent off at a moment's notice to kill whoever it was needing eliminated.

It was on one such mission away from the  _Finalizer—_ away from even the other knights—that you found yourself alone on a backwater planet in the dead of night, your backpack slung over your shoulder and a blaster in hand as you made your way across a half-abandoned town. Your most recent kill had been easier than expected, and you sent a series of transmissions to both Kylo Ren as well as General Hux to let them know that you were safe and on your way back to the cruiser that would meet with Kylo Ren's ship the next day.

The air was crisp against your skin, drying the sweat that clung to your cotton tunic. Each breath of cool air in your lungs was a blessing. The quiet. The darkness. The stars glittering tiny and twinkling against the backdrop of sky. Something about it relaxed you. Even the dust beneath your boots was welcome.

What  _wasn't_ welcome were the headlights up ahead from a small, personal ship that was hovering just a hundred metres away. The ship wasn't moving, but it was certainly on. Certainly manned. And you ducked behind a broken plaster wall to watch the ship slowly settle on the dusty ground and turn its bright headlights to a low beam.

The ship's entrance ramp lowered to the ground, and a silhouette could be seen walking down into the dark and then stepping in front of the low lights to cast a massive, warped shadow over the dust. They stood there, arms folded over their chest for a moment as their head slowly scanned the area. After a minute, they stepped forward, casually walking in the light so that they remained backlit. Their walk was calm, as though they were bored, too bored for words, too apathetic to walk any faster.

You recognised that walk.

The figure stopped just before the plaster wall that you hid behind, and you could see wisps of their blonde hair blowing forward with the breeze.

“I know you're here.” Anna's voice cut across the silence, and her head cocked to the side to look over  to where you  hid .

Swallowing a lump that had risen in your throat, you stepped forward and could finally see her face. Anna looked no different than she had the day she had abandoned you to Kylo Ren. Still with limp blonde hair that touched to her shoulders, still looking as though she was fed up with her own existence whenever she spoke. The light was so low that you could only just make out the difference between the whites and brown irises of her eyes as she watched you.

“Breeah's been keepin' an eye on ya,” Anna mentioned as she glanced back at the ship. “She's got some transmission feed runnin' from the First Order. Searches for your name. Looks for keywords. She told me ya'd be here.”

“She's always right, isn't she?” Breeah and that damned hacking of hers. Half of the time, you didn't know if it was a curse or blessing. “So why are you here?”

“Ya don't seem very happy to see me?” Anna asked. She punched forward, hitting on your left shoulder without any intention to hurt you. It was a test; she remembered that had been your injured shoulder when she had last seen you. But you didn't even flinch, and Anna smiled in response. “Well look at that... All healed.”

“Well, it's been  _months_ . I'd  _hope_ my shoulder would be better,” you said.

Anna shrugged. “They're treatin' ya well, though?”

“Yeah.”

“Better than Raph?”

You frowned for a moment, feeling your heart beat faster. How you hated even hearing that man's name after all the things he had done to you. Your life now felt so much different. “So much better.”

“Lucky you.”

Anna turned toward the ship and motioned with a finger for you to follow behind her. At the entrance ramp was another of Raph's assassins, Tomas. A tall man with dark skin like burnt clay, he sat with a vibroblade in his hands, glaring at you from dark eyes surrounded by long, black lashes. He was nearing thirty, and you could see the hints of premature silver along his temples, shining in stark contrast to his black hair.

“I didn't want to come here. I want you to know that straight away,” Tomas remarked upon seeing you.

“You don't trust me?” you asked, jutting your hip to the side and resting your hand against the blaster now strapped to your waist.  You didn't actually care much about his opinion, but you played sad for the hell of it.

“It doesn't matter if I trust you or not. I don't trust that this is secret. Raph finds out whatever he wants; you know that.” Tomas's voice was low, husky. And he did a piss poor job at hiding his fear.

Anna groaned with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “He thinks Breeah's gonna tell on us.”

“You know what we're risking, Anna,” he hissed.

She gave a sigh that said she knew  _exactly_ what the risks were when meeting with someone behind Raph's back—especially someone he wanted dead. But Anna turned to you and gave the faintest hint of a smile.

“It's nice to see ya, kid,” she finally said. “I've been meanin' to for a while.”

You nodded and smiled as well. “You're a bitch, but it's good to see you, too.”

Plopping down on the ramp beside Tomas, you leaned your chin against your knee and looked up at Anna, letting her feel tall for a moment. “So...” you started. “Why the visit?”

“To catch up. To feed my curiosity. That kinda shit. Stars, I bet you're gonna ask me a million questions, huh?” She snickered to herself but started to pace along the bottom of the ramp, kicking up dust and rocks with the toe of her boot. “Raph still wants ya dead. But he knows you're high up in the First Order now, so he's not tryin' as hard. Kinda waitin' for  an opportune moment, ya know?”

Knowing that Raph had put your demise on hold was a welcome relief; you had expected Anna to say that it was imminent. “I guess I'm not terribly concerned, then,” you replied.

“You  _should_ be.” Anna kicked hard at a rock and sent it flying into the dark. “Raph's willing to take out the whole damn First Order just to get to ya. Don't forget that he doesn't care who gets in the way. And he's plottin' things. He hasn't said anything out loud, but I know it. Tomas knows it.”

“Don't bring me into this,” he mumbled.

Anna continued. “He bought a new assassin to replace ya. Her name's Suzet—really skilled with poisons but totally untrained. I don't expect her to make it through the first month of trainin' before she's thrown in an airlock, but that's just me. Looks weak. But that's not the important part—the  _important_ thing is that he's movin' forward. Doin' somethin'. Somethin' dangerous.”

“Well, I already have enough dangerous things going on  in my life , so hopefully he can keep putting my death on the back burner.” You  watched as Anna lined up a row of rocks with her foot and started to kick them away from the ship.  One by one, they soared into the darkness and landed with a dull thud in the dust . Her agitation was only increasing with the conversation, and you started to wonder what she was hiding. What else had her on edge?

“Tell me,” you said after a moment, “That warning you and Breeah gave me on Eufornis Major... does that still stand?”

“About an attack  comin' from inside the First Order? I dunno.”

“One of the captains tried to kill me, but you guys didn't make it sound like the transmissions were about my life.”

“Yeah,” Anna agreed, still looking into the darkness as she searched for more rocks to kick. “It sounded like somethin' bigger. But... it also sounded immediate. If it hasn't happened yet, maybe it's not gonna.”

“It just has me feeling uneasy is all. I keep wondering if there's something lurking within the First Order, and if there's no place safe. You may think this is stupid, but I'm not just worried about  _my_ life.”

Anna stopped her kicking and finally looked over her shoulder at you, hooded eyes squinted as she tried to understand exactly what you meant. Her eyes twitched, gaze catching on Tomas before going back to you. He narrowed his eyes back at her but then sighed and ran his hand through his  thick , shaggy hair. The way that they looked at one another reminded you of Kylo Ren and his knights—the ones who were Force-sensitive and could carry an entire conversation in their heads. But with Anna and Tomas, those knowing looks conveyed a different kind of language. A language that had always been around you but you had never noticed until recently—until building the same language with General Hux.

“Who is it?” Anna asked. She stepped forward, eyes still narrowed.

“What do you--”

“--Ya know  _exactly_ what I mean.  Who do ya suddenly care so much about?”

Your face contorted into a glare, and you held your ground like a boulder. It took a while, but you finally answered, “General Hux.”

Anna looked at you as though her brain had shut off with the shock of it, and Tomas was the one to reply. “The general that you were supposed to have killed?”

“You're fuckin' kiddin' me...” Anna groaned. “ _That_ general? The red-head? The one who looked all of forty pounds soakin' wet? You can't...  _You fell in love with him?!_ ”

At this, you stood, letting yourself feel tall before Anna's tiny frame. She looked ready to spit in your face, but you forced yourself to stay in control. Stay calm. Keep serious. “It wasn't intentional, but yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“And does  _he_ know about this?” she asked.

You nodded. “It's mutual.”

“Stars, you're a piece a work, kid.” Anna slammed her fist against the side of the ship with a hollow thrum and then turned back to you. “ Of all people... ya chose the highest rankin'—he  _is_ the highest, right?--in the whole damned First Order to go 'n seduce, huh? Shit, I knew ya worked with him, but... this? If Raph finds out--”

“He wont!” All at once, your voice had risen to a shout, and your fists were balled. Your heart was beating in your throat as you stared Anna dead in the eye and then gave the same glare to Tomas. “You can't tell him. Not a single word. Raph is already trying to kill us, but he doesn't need another reason. Especially not this one. He can't know, and you have to  _promise_ me that you won't say anything!”

Anna took in a deep breath but nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, ya know I won't tell.”

Then you looked over to Tomas who seemed less willing to acquiesce but finally gave a small nod hidden into his grimace. Agreeing with you had never been his plan. Hell, even letting Anna land the ship to see you had been against his wishes, and here he was, promising to keep secrets for you. And if he was being honest with himself—which he  _was—_ then he would admit that you weren't worth it. No one was worth it, but especially not you.

You let out a sigh of relief but still felt anxious. Any thoughts of Raph did that to you.

“You're not really safe on any front, are ya?” Anna mumbled.

You felt like correcting her. There was certainly a lot of danger around you, but there were at least a handful of people on whom you could rely. “Kylo Ren. And Hux. I know that I'm safe with them.” You would have added a few more names—Alma, Clees, Kelakh—but the less that you mentioned about the Knights, the better. Anna didn't need that extra information. Not when she was already trying to process how in the hell you had managed to end up in a relationship with General Hux.

None of you said anything for a minute. Anna turned back to her rocks and kicked one so hard that she nearly fell backwards onto the entrance ramp. Tomas groaned and checked a digital clock back inside of the ship and snapped his fingers toward Anna. She cringed, rolling her fingers into fists with her back still turned to him.

“We have to leave, Anna. It's already been too long,” he urged.

She turned around but directed everything at you. “ This General Hux guy... Don't let him hurt ya. Stay safe. Be careful. And... I can't make any promises to help ya if you're ever in trouble, but... I don't mind ya askin'. Just remember that.”

You nodded and stepped off of the ramp as Anna passed you and joined beside Tomas. They stepped up into the ship with Tomas immediately going to the cockpit, but Anna knelt beside the slowly closing ramp, yelling as loud as she could over the mechanical hissing of the ship.

“I'll have Breeah look at more transmissions!” she yelled. “We'll keep an eye on ya. See what Raph's plannin'. But keep your own eyes open, yeah? Raph's gonna move forward with somethin'. I don't know when. Don't know the details. But it's gonna happen. So you stay safe!”

And then her voice was cut off as the ramp sealed shut, and in all of a second, the ship switched its lights to high beam and sped off into the distance amid a kick of swirling dust. You watched the ship disappear into the night and kept still as the dust settled around you, coating your black outfit so that you blended right into the ground. Tugging your scarf back over your face, you began to move forward again, back to your own cruiser that was still several kilometres away.

Your fingers tapped against your comm at your belt. There was someone you wanted to call after the ups and downs of the conversation. Someone you wanted to check on. But should you? You fought with yourself for a moment, then hissed out a curse as you reached for the comm and started hitting in the number.

“Hey...” you spoke into the comm. “Hey, I don't know what time it is on the  _Finalizer_ , but are you awake?”

There were a few seconds of silence before General Hux's tired voice  broke through. “When do I  _ever_ sleep?” he asked. But you knew from the way he spoke that he had been fast asleep when you commed. “All is well on the mission?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “ B ut I just... I needed to tell you something.”

“What?” He sounded slightly nervous, more awake.

“I met up with Anna, and she thinks Raph's planning things. She was really anxious, so... just, take care of yourself until I get back. Okay? I want to know that you're safe.”

You could just make out Hux's chuckle in the background. “I have had Alma keep guard of me in your absence. I consider myself  plenty  safe.”

You bit at the inside of your cheek, wanting to say more. Wanting to tell him that you trusted Alma but that she still wasn't  _you_ . Wanting to say how much you needed to see him before you, safe  and sound, commanding entire armies  with ferocity. In that moment, you would have given so much to feel his skin rather than the comm, its metal cold against your fingers. A tightness was bubbling through your stomach and lodging in your throat as you thought of him.

“Anything else?” he asked after you had been silent for a while longer.

You swallowed hard, feeling your fingers tremble against the comm. “Yeah,” you answered, and then there was another pause for just a moment. “Yeah. I love you.”

* * *

 

** A/N:  ** So, I rewatched  _In Bruges_ as I was writing this chapter, and I would be lying if I didn't admit that its characters have highly influenced my writing. If you have not seen  _In Bruges_ , I would highly recommend it. The dialogue is top notch, sarcastic, dark Irish humour. Though ye be warned that it is violent, gory, and very inappropriate. Still, if you're looking for a film to watch that is both hilarious and will also make you cry at the end, hit it up.

Also, this chapter took a long while for me to write because I've been pretty busy with watching my niece throughout the week, getting my garden all ready for summer, and then preparing for Ramadan. And here I thought that I would write  _faster_ over my summer holidays! Oh well.

* * *

 


	17. Rebar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Hux is shocked by your revelation that you have fallen in love with him and seeks to express the same sentiments before your next mission with the Knights of Ren, turning what should have been a conversation into much more. But the night is interrupted with the news that Raph is planning an immediate attack upon both you and anyone who should be near. Set into a defensive mode, you accompany the Knights and Troopers on a new mission that will go terribly wrong.

 

**Chapter Playlist:** [ Youtube ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sm1bDP0yNj8&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhbjjsQ2o3Yy7AOwMCl57QD-)

**Content Warnings:** Sexy stuff and lots of gore.

* * *

General Hux could feel a weight drop from his heart to his stomach and  then  sink through his legs to the floor. It was like a chunk of lead had settled in his toes so that he couldn't move a single inch.

_“Yeah. I love you.”_

It was such a simple thing to say, but it was echoing in his head. He could hear your voice with every beat of his heart, could almost smell the scent of your skin, of your hair. But he was alone, seated on the edge of his bed in the darkness. The comm was still in his hand, silent now and turned off. His mind was buzzing so quickly that he couldn't even remember what he had said in response. Had he returned the sentiment? Had he said anything at all? His lips didn't feel like his own in that moment and all the minutes that followed. Out of body and out of mind, he felt as though he was floating away from his weighted feet and separating into some new plane of existence.

It hurt. This joy that bounced within him was so strong that it was painful, like fists beating against the inside of his ribcage to be set free. It wasn't the first time that someone had said they loved him, but it had been the first time that it had been said unprovoked, without any intention of manipulation. It wasn't said from the mouth of someone wanting to gain his power. It wasn't said by someone as a formality. It was said because it was  _true_ , and that— _that—_ was what made it so incredibly different.

He thought back to all of the years of his youth. Love hadn't been a word uttered by his family. Certainly not  by his mother who was long since deceased nor  by  his father who had trained him from birth to become the leader that he was today. It wasn't that they scorned love, but it was not a necessary part of their lives. It wasn't an emotion with a place in their family that was so militaristic and political in nature.  Authoritarians didn't need love. They needed obedience.

And then there were the  past lovers— the  partners in one night stands who may have said that they loved him in a fit of passion, but they both knew the next morning that it wasn't true. He couldn't even remember half of their names by this point. Their love had been shallow and meaningless.

Maybe an hour had passed of Hux gathering his thoughts when he hit the comm again and saw the little red light illuminate his moving fingers.

“Are you awake?” His voice was nothing more than a breathy whisper into the silent room, and he waited with eyes clenched shut, as though to hide from your voice. As though the words that would come through the comm could see him frozen in place.

“Yeah.” You were still walking through the night and getting ever  closer to your cruiser.  Hux didn't speak for a moment, but you waited. He would  talk  eventually if only given the time to think through whatever was in his head. Apparently, your blunt statement had shorted a wire in his brain, which had you smiling to yourself.

“When you get back...” he whispered. “Come straight to me.”

“I have another mission to leave for with the Knights when I get back--”

“--I don't care. Ren can wait. Do I have your word?”

“...Yes.”

He sighed in relief. “Good. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Hux,” you whispered, not completely sure if he could even hear you.

“And to you.”

Then the comm shut off.

* * *

 

As ordered, the second that you landed on the  _Finalizer_ , you made your way to General Hux. Kylo Ren hadn't even bothered asking you why. Just by the look of determination on your face, he could tell that it was serious, and honestly, he didn't feel like messing with the general right now. Nothing annoyed him more than Hux, and he could spend the next few hours preparing for the next trip anyway. Another round of Resistance fighters needed eliminating, and it wasn't looking like an easy trip.

It was early into the night when you made your way to General Hux's private quarters, but he was waiting for you. He must have been seated right next to the door, because it only took him a second to answer the door when you arrived and pull you inside. Immediately, he kissed you and wrapped his arms around your waist. Setting his chin on the top of your head, he held you for just a moment, his eyes closed as he smiled to himself about having you back.

“I'm no longer used to having you leave for days at a time,” he sighed.

“How'd everything go without me?” You slowly pulled away and drifted over to his couch to greet Millicent, who was sleeping on her back on a throw pillow. She chirped in response, and you dragged her onto your lap as you plopped down.

Hux joined you, sitting more formally beside you. “I was fine in your absence. Or... I was _safe_. I can't say much about being _fine_. But Alma does an excellent job in your stead.”

“She didn't disappear on you like she does on me?” you asked.

“No, she suffered through it.”

You could feel you eyebrows momentarily tug together. “What do you mean?”

Hux seemed surprised. “Ren hasn't told you why she leaves for lengths of time, has he?”

“No,” you groaned, feeling like a child who had been left out of a family meeting.

“It isn't my place to tell you, but--”

“--Then don't. I'll ask her myself,” you interrupted. “Anyway, what is this all about?”

Hux's face pulled into a grimace, and he began to grind his back molars together in agitation. He stared off with a look of intense concentration.

“Has anyone ever told you that they loved you and meant it?” he asked.

Your eyes widened. You hadn't quite known what to expect of this meeting, but this  certainly  hadn't been it. “No,” you answered after a little while. “No one has ever told me they loved me, actually.”

Hux raised an eyebrow, suddenly feeling slightly ashamed. So he  _hadn't_ returned  your sentiments over the comm. He felt like a total arse, but now  it was as though he had lost the opportunity to repeat it. Was it appropriate to just come out and say 'I love you', or should he wait? This was too difficult. So instead, he feigned surprise. “Never?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

He slowly sighed and still looked forward, as though looking deep into a memory. “I did not grow up with love. It was never mentioned. Never expressed, so you must understand that it... doesn't come naturally to me.  I'm a cold, heartless bastard when it comes down to it. If there is one thing that you should know about me, it is that I am my father's son through and through. Though I may despise the man with every fibre of my being, he remains my greatest influence, and his goals have become my own as I've matured. He was strict. Commanding. There was no softness to him whatsoever, and I learned from him that to be a leader, one must put the bigger picture ahead of themselves. So I have never put any thought into building a long-term relationship with someone. The very concept seemed to be a waste of time and energy.

“And then you came along. I went from despising you to being intrigued and then to outright obsession. You twisted your fingers into me and haven't let go... and I haven't  _wanted_ you to let go. It's like you crafted a net... used it to capture my heart. I'm not used to it, and you must understand that this is new territory for me. New...”

Hux seemed to be losing his words as he continued along, pausing more and more to figure out what he meant to say. Without thinking much, you reached for his hand and gave a tight squeeze, and he seemed to settle back into his skin as he caught up to his racing thoughts. He reached with his other hand for your face, cupping your cheek in his palm.

“Damn it, I'm in love with you,” he groaned. His sea-glass eyes were so worried as he looked directly at you. Light eyebrows drawing together and mouth in a slit of a frown, he stared at you, trying to make sure that he hadn't just fucked everything up. “And I won't rest until you know the extent of that love.”

Your entire face had pulled into a grin, and you reached forward to kiss him—just a small, tender thing as he tried to calm himself down. He was  being so ridiculous, and it was taking all of your self-control to not laugh at him. “I already know, you loser.”

He was still frowning but looked  _slightly_ less worried at seeing you smile. “How much time do you have before leaving on the next mission?” Hux asked whilst glancing to the clock in his kitchen.

You followed his gaze. “Four hours.”

“Well then,” he said, finally looking more secure and allowing himself an honest smile. “What  was it  that  you said when we were on Eufornis Major? 'Let's make it worth it'?”

“Yeah...?”

“ Well, I would dare to do just that.”

You laughed and raised an eyebrow at him. “All right then. Show me what you've got.”

With the hint of cockiness that you  were used to seeing him display when particularly satisfied with his own work, Hux grinned and pulled you from your seat on the couch. Millicent leapt from your lap and watched as Hux began to kiss you with all that he was worth. His hands were everywhere—in your hair, tracing down your back, grabbing at your arms, grazing your face. He couldn't stop the need to feel you—to feel  your warmth against his fingers.

Like a dance for power, you both moved across the room, bumping into furniture, into the wall, into the door frame that led to his bedroom.  There would definitely be bruises from the sharp corners of an end table and the metal door frame, but you couldn't make yourself care. Not when you had him in your grasp. Not when everything happening was so electric  that you could hardly breathe.

Hux's fingers were at your shirt, tugging it over your head to throw across his bedroom and onto a chair, and you were busy unbuttoning his uniform so that it could join your own shirt. His skin was so pale that it seemed to emit its own light in the semi-darkness, and there was a certain delight to seeing the tiny freckles that splattered his shoulders. You ran your fingers down his back, feeling each nob of vertebrae as he kissed down your neck, to your collarbones, down your chest and stomach. Reaching your trousers, he tore at the zipper, trying to remove them as quickly as possible to continue kissing every inch of skin he could get to.

Never before had you seen Hux so _needy_. Even as you kicked off your trousers and bounced onto his bed, he was still trying to kiss all of you at once. You pulled him on top of you and started to tug at his belt,  your eyes following the line of soft red hair that ran from his belly button and snaked down his abdomen. You were curious to see what remained hidden. How many more freckles were beneath that uniform? Any scars like your own? Because your body was littered with them, but that didn't seem to stop Hux. His lips trailed along a scar against your ribs and then to another scar on your chest. Thank the stars that he didn't see them as a deformity but as the proof that you had won battles. You were the warrior queen of his heart, and he felt barely worthy to kiss the scars that were lasting signs of your victories.

Hux may have said that love was a new territory for him, but in comparison to your lack of experience, he may as well have been as skilled as they came. Truly, you had little idea of what you were doing with him atop you. All you knew was that this was what you wanted. This was bliss. This was new and explosive. This was beyond words.

Skin to skin, mouth to mouth. You let your fingers scratch down Hux's back as he grabbed hold of you wherever he could. Running on pure instinct, you let your legs wrap around his waist, keeping him as close  to you as possible . He sucked at your neck, lightly biting until reaching your collarbone, and you giggled into his hair. This only seemed to further encourage him as you both broke into a matching rhythm.

Stars, he was attractive like this! Not that Hux wasn't normally attractive to you these days, but by damn, the way that his mouth twitched into a smirk as he looked at you and then went back to kissing or biting or sucking at your skin! It was enough to send butterflies into your stomach every single time. Once again, you found yourself laughing at how damn cocky he was, and you decided that now was as good a time as any to flip him over so that Hux's back was to the soft, ruffled bedding, and you were now on top of him.

There was a wild, surprised look in his eyes as he moved one hand to your hip and the other to your face so that he could bring your lips to his.

“You're adventurous,” he whispered between panting breaths.

You couldn't help but grin as you leaned forward, face to face, so close that you could feel his breath against your skin that was covered in a sheen of sweat. “I'm an assassin, Hux. Adventure is in my blood.”

And then like a flash of lightning, Hux pulled you even closer to him and rolled so that he was back on top of you  again. It was enough to force the air from your lungs, and now you knew how he had felt when you had surprised him in the same way.

You laughed as soon as you had caught your breath and allowed everything to slow. For a while, all that you were truly aware of was how every cell in your body felt  jolted alive. It wasn't fire that seemed to roll through you. Not even electricity, though that certainly felt as though it was dancing on your skin with every movement of Hux's fingers. But there was something completely different that roared within you, that caused every muscle in your body to clench as the world delayed. The speed at which either of you moved seemed frozen in time, and you squeezed your eyes shut, gasping for air.

Bright stars danced in your vision when you opened your eyes to the dark, and you reached with wobbly arms for Hux's face so that you could kiss him sloppily. He was grinning again, looking so incredibly satisfied with himself—as though he had just led an entire army to battle and back.

“I call bullshit about you being a cold, heartless bastard,” you whispered into his ear. He merely kissed down your neck in response, and you could feel his tongue rolling along your throat. Then he buried his face into the crook between your shoulder and your neck as his movements became rougher and more sporadic. His fingers dug into your hip, the tiny crescents of his nails leaving their marks in your skin. It wasn't long until he let out a long sigh among quick, panting breaths, and you both relaxed until the only sounds in the room were those of your breaths.

You ran your fingers through Hux's messy hair, pulling the sweat-soaked strands from his forehead. H ux's eyes had been closed until then, but he lifted his chin that rested on your chest and opened his eyes, soft and tired. Lifting a hand to your face, he let his thumb rub along your cheekbone in slow circles.

“ I will be cold and heartless again after you leave,” he sighed.

“I'd expect nothing less.” Your words were warped by the grin that covered your face in seeing him before you—exhausted but calm and satisfied. Whether he would admit it or not, he had needed this. He had needed to get lost in your body after so many years of being found in the First Order. This was a holiday, and he was already craving the next time that you would be together.

He closed his eyes once more and slightly rolled to his side so that he was still partially on top of you but without the risk of crushing you beneath him. You shivered as his body heat left you, and the chill of the room became apparent for the first time. Snuggling into his body, you closed your eyes and listened to him breathe, listened to Millicent jump onto the bed and settle in a puffy circle by your feet. Everything was so quiet now. So peaceful. To think that you had to be awake again in a couple of hours was torture, but you tried not to think about it as you settled yourself perfectly into Hux's body, like two puzzle pieces that had finally found their matching edges.

* * *

 

You awoke to the gently flashing light of a transmission coming through the datapad on Hux's bed-side table. The tiny, white light ebbed and glowed, and it took you a moment to orient yourself to time and place.

The blankets had been tangled between both you and Hux, and he was softly sleeping beside you, an arm draped over your waist and his face in a mess of your hair. You pulled one of the blankets over your bare shoulders, blocking the chill of the room as you waited for the datapad to load. A flutter of worry crossed your mind that you had overslept and was about to receive a rather angry message from Kylo Ren, but the clock on Hux's dresser said that you still had over an hour of time. So who would the transmission be from? Was it even for  _you_ ? Only one way to find out.

As it had occurred far too often lately, you recognised the transmission number as having come from Anna, and a little exclamation mark was beside the transmission, warning you that it was of immediate importance.

_ 8-00-140-419-8501 : dont go on next mission; raph knows; planning trap _

Bile had risen beneath your tongue, and suddenly, your skin felt hot and flushed even though you  _ knew _ that you were still freezing. It was as though every cell in your  brain was a lert and firing at once,  sending thousands of thoughts through your m ind that battled for dominance . Everything felt too real, too sensitive to your touch. You could even feel Hux's pulse through his fingers against your stomach. You reread the message over and over again, trying to decide what to do, but finally, you tapped against Hux's back, letting your hand rest against the dip of his spine as he grunted awake.

He rolled over, his red hair sticking up in every direction and a sleepy smile glued to his face. His eyes were still closed, and he tried to pull you closer to him. You wanted more than anything to cuddle back beside him and drift off to sleep until morning, but now you were wide awake and forcing down panic.

“Hux,” you whispered, and his eyebrows pulled together. Blinking his eyes open, he sat up in bed and took you in—your messy hair, the blanket pulled around you to hide your nakedness, but mostly the worry written all over your face.

“What's happened?” he demanded, suddenly looking more like his usual self. His eyes focused on the datapad, and he saw the message. Suddenly, his chest felt full of icicles, as though all the air had been frozen from his lungs. “You can't go.”

“I have to,” you retorted, voice stronger than you felt. “There's no way I'm gonna be able to get the Knights to not go. Even with this kind of warning, they'll feel too secure in their abilities. No. I have to. At least to protect them.”

“That is absurd,” Hux shot back. He turned off the datapad and rubbed at his temples, grinding his teeth as he thought. “No. I won't allow it.”

“It's not your decision to make. It's Ren's. And mine.”

He nearly hissed in response. “What good am I as a general if I can't keep the woman I love out of harm's way?”

You rolled your eyes. “If you're so nervous, send along some Troopers or something.”

“ _ I  _ should go--”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT,” you shouted, punching against the blankets. Hux flinched out of the way of your punch, not daring to move as your anger rose,  and Millicent leapt from the bed with an alarmed meow. “That is the  _ dumbest _ thing I've ever heard. No. You're not leaving the safety of the  _ Finalizer _ . Especially if Raph's gonna be there, I  _ refuse _ to let you be anywhere near  him .”

He looked completely put off and cringed beside you, his fingers pulling at the comforter in stress and anger. “I loathe that man.”

“Don't we all?”

“You need protection going into this,” he said, trying to think up a plan on the spot. “I'll send along Phasma. My best Troopers.”

He immediately started sending transmissions on the datapad, waking several Troopers in the dead of night to tell them to meet at the hangar within an hour for a special operations mission. Then he commed Captain Phasma, who groggily agreed to meet at his quarters in fifteen minutes  with her best Troopers for a briefing session. Nearly tripping out of bed,  Hux started to dress, and you watched all of those glorious freckles and pale skin get hidden behind layers of slim, black uniform. You, too, started to dress back into your dirty, black cotton, and you tried to fix your hair into something at least  _ mildly _ presentable.

Within only minutes, it felt like half of the First Order was meeting in General Hux's small living and dining room, all looking sleep-deprived  and concerned. Captain Phasma took a seat on the couch beside you, already in her all black under-armour. Purple circles hung under her eyes, but the fatigue didn't seem to phase her. If anything, she looked strangely determined. And then there was Kylo Ren leaning against the corner of the wall with a sour look on his face at having been called to be anywhere near General Hux. His dark eyes narrowed  in you r direction .

_ “What is this about?” _ he hissed into your mind.

_ “Raph. He's planning a trap for our next mission.” _

_ “I'm not cancelling anything on account of one assassin who thinks that he owns you.” _

_ “I didn't think you would; that's why the meeting's happening.” _

Kylo Ren huffed and stared down at the floor whilst muttering under his breath.  He wished that he had brought along his helmet so that he wouldn't have to make eye contact with the Troopers that kept glancing in his direction.

Troopers, some in personnel uniform and others in armour, were seated and standing around the room as Hux explained the situation. He gave specific orders to each of them—some were to accompany Ren and the knights and others to fly on a separate ship as back-up. And then there were the Troopers that would be staying on the  _ Finalizer _ as a secondary defence to protect high up military personnel from any additional attack. For having only come up with the plan fifteen minutes before,  Hux was amazingly thorough.  Seeing him in action, barking directions and commanding troops like he was born to lead, was a sight to behold. The authority that carried in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you were caught up in awe, not even paying attention to the words themselves but to the way he spoke. It was only when he motioned toward you that you snapped out of whatever trance he had put you in.

“And she  _ never _ leaves the ship without two Troopers as back-up. Have I made myself clear?”

Several Troopers looked over to you as they gave General Hux their affirmation. You rolled your eyes, knowing full well that no Trooper in the galaxy would be able to keep you safe if Raph actually attacked. But the directions and order seemed to relieve Hux. He couldn't control Raph's actions, but he could control everything else, and he would try his best to do so. After all, he was a general. This was his  _ job _ .

As the Troopers exited toward the hangar behind Kylo Ren and Captain Phasma, General Hux kept you aside. Wrapping his arms behind your back, he drew you to his body and breathed  in the scent of your hair.

“It shouldn't surprise you that I would have preferred to keep you in my bed,” he whispered.

“Same.”  You lifted your head as he laid a kiss on your forehead and gave a sad smile. “If that son of a bitch doesn't kill me, then expect me back here soon.”

“You're harder to kill than you know,” Hux answered, and after giving another tight squeeze, he finally let you go, though it pained him more than being stabbed through the gut.

* * *

 

Kylo Ren's private ship was packed full to the brim. Captain Phasma and a few of her lieutenants were on board along with the four knights who were _not_ still in training. The crew was nervous. _You_ were nervous. Nothing else in your life was as terrifying as Raph, and even  the _chance_ of him being near set you on edge. How close was he? What was he planning? How could he be avoided? You felt helpless as you sat in a curled ball on the lounge's couch, your arms wrapped around your legs so that your chin could rest on your knees.

There had been too much excitement in the past few hours. Too many competing emotions. Why could n't you have just stayed beneath those blankets  with  Hux's arm still wrapped around your body as you both slept? Why were you here without him,  h ere with the nervous energy running through the air?

You had tried to make small talk with the knights, but they were quiet. Clees and Kelakh could feel the fear in the air and wanted everyone to settle, but there was little chance of that with the Troopers busy taking commands from Captain Phasma and relaying messages to the two other teams on the ship that followed behind and the  _ Finalizer _ . And if the Troopers weren't nerve-wracking enough, Graem was just a seat away, tossing one of his stupid bombs into the air and catching it like it was a toy ball. He only brought more flighty energy to the ship, and you could have punched him in his beautiful face for it.

Kylo Ren had been the first to leave General Hux's living quarters after the meeting so that he could angrily march his way across the star destroyer, slicing bitterly through anything that caught his eye. Burning metal had accompanied your trip on board, and you could still smell it lingering in the air even though he had barrelled his way into his private quarters. He despised Hux's meddling. There was nothing more loathsome than when Hux got to send along his Troopers and mess up well-laid plans.

Alma left Kylo's private room a couple hours into travelling to deliver a few messages to the other knights, and she leaned against the armrest beside you. She was quiet after speaking with them and stared off with her fingers tapping on her thighs in agitation. You could hear Hux's voice in your head, trying to tell you something about her before you had interrupted. But now the curiosity was back and beating through your brain. Alma's eyes flickered to yours for a moment, and you knew that she was most likely listening in on your thoughts.

“Can I talk to you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice low. “In private?”

She narrowed her already small eyes at you but silently stood and moved to the narrow staircase that would lead to the lower level of the ship. Following behind  her , she  spun and pulled you into the galley kitchen at the foot of the steps, which was already disgusting again from the Troopers on board.

“What?” she asked, voice crisp even in its softness. Alma had a way of looking into your soul when her eyes were on you, making you feel small and powerless. Sometimes you thought that it was an effect of the Force. Stars, she was powerful! But in that moment, you knew that it was just her. It always had been.

“Hux was trying to tell me something about you,” you started whilst pushing away the nervousness that still held in the air. “That something was wrong, but I didn't want him to say anything. It seemed like a secret.”

“And to what did this pertain?”

“Why you disappear for days at a time,” you answered.

Alma studied you for a moment, looking as cold as a statue, and you felt even smaller in her presence.

“You don't have to tell me. I just...” You tried to think of how to put the words so that you didn't come off as a complete jerk. “If there _is_ something wrong, I only wanted to hear it from you. Especially if it's something serious; it only seems right.”

Alma seemed to think deeply about this. She took in a deep breath and let it out as a sigh as she bit the inside of her cheek. Her black eyes trailed to the side, but then she turned back to you, lips pursed but eyes steady.

“I'm sick,” she said bluntly. “Something auto-immune. No name for it of which _I_ am aware. No cure, either. Nothing that can be done other than to rest during flares.”

“So _t_ _hat's_ why you disappear all the time?”

She gave a short nod. “There are days when... nothing works as it should. My hands clench. I can't hold my sabre. The pain I can manage. Pain is intrinsic to life. But what becomes difficult is when this illness comes to life and makes it physically impossible to do even the most mundane tasks. Some days, I can't hold a glass of water—much less train you to fight or pull my weight on a mission. There are entire days of uselessness.”

You weren't quite sure what to say, and maybe there wasn't anything that _could_ be said. Maybe you simply had to accept all that she said at face value and try not to draw out any more questions than what was needed. Instead, you shifted focus. “Kylo knows about it, doesn't he?”

“Of course he does. There is nothing that he does _not_ know...” Alma almost continued speaking, and you chanced a guess that she would have ended her statement with _'about me'_. But you couldn't _quite_ be sure.

“Who else knows?”

“The other knights. Doctor Sayeed. The general, though if he was so willing to divulge to you, I'm sure that others know by this point,” she spat.

“I won't tell anyone,” you assured. “Just... Let me know if I can help.”

“You can't.” Alma turned around, already making her way back up the staircase, and you could feel the ship slowing beneath you and rocking as it passed through the planet's atmosphere. But as the ship jerked ever so slightly, Alma stopped and looked over her shoulder to you from her position on the stairs. A chunk of straight, black hair fell over her face, but you could still see her eyes that no longer narrowed in your direction but were softer. More human. “Thank you,” she said after a moment. “For asking me directly.”

You nodded, giving a wane smile. “No problem.”

Stepping back up stairs, the anxiety within the room had seemed to double in a short period of time. With the ship preparing to land, the Troopers were handing out weapons and going over final plans. Meanwhile, the knights were pulling on their helmets, and Kylo Ren finally emerged from hiding with his lightsabre in hand.

“That moron of a general requested two Troopers to stay by your side,” he hissed through the voice modulator. “But you know as well as I that they are _useless_. You will stay by my side as Kelakh and Phasma keep to the back of our group.”

“Got it.” This seemed like a slightly better plan. Out of everyone on board, Ren was the best fighter, the most sensitive in the Force, and the most willing to give his all in a battle.

The ship glided to a stop in what looked to be an abandoned airstrip that had been filled with other ships, most of which being half destroyed so that someone could pick them apart to be sold as junk. A second ship landed beside Ren's, and a series of Troopers began to exit and stand in formation outside. The entrance ramp let out a long hiss before you and lowered to the twilight-drenched asphalt below.

Ren was first to step off, followed by yourself, Clees, and Alma. The Troopers surrounded your group like a ring of guard dogs, all keeping their blasters at the ready. A flutter of anxiety was rising in your chest as you moved and felt the raw metal and chunks of asphalt crunch beneath your feet. All around you were the broken down ships, stacked on top of one another and tangled together for as far as you could see. The tops of the mounds of metal seemed to glow in the ruby light of sunset, but most of the ground was cast in shadow as this planet descended into night.

You kept close to Ren's side as Phasma and Kelakh both walked down the ramp, and you were more than ready to flee this area. You were ready to run out of this metal fortress to kill the Resistance fighters. And as you stood in the shadows, you wanted the old plan back for this mission—the one that was difficult but without all of the stress. You wanted the feeling of fear to not drench you to the bone. You wanted the Troopers to be far away as your tiny group of knights went into the dark to hunt their prey.

You wanted to not hear the _click, click, click_ that immediately preceded the exploding of a bomb.

Where all had been quiet, a blast suddenly tore through the air behind the secondary transport ship of Troopers, sending a ball of flame high above you. There was little time to react, but you turned just in time to see the ship lift a few metres off the ground and then entirely explode into the flames. The sound of violent cracks filled the air along with the roaring fire, and the ship crashed back down to the asphalt with a sickening crunch. It was nothing more than blackened metal and shattered glass upon the ground—no different from the thousands of other destroyed ships that it had landed beside. The fire raged within it, scorching the wing of Kylo Ren's ship that had otherwise survived the blast just fine.

Immediately, everyone scattered.

The Troopers who had _not_ been blown apart into shreds of human shrapnel were now gathering in tight groups, back to back as they surveyed the area. Captain Phasma and Kelakh ran from Ren's ship, but he held up a hand, stopping both of them in place.

“Do not leave the ship!” he roared, and at that moment, he pushed you behind him and ignited his sabre. Red like the sunset, it waved through the air before you.

Ren stepped forward as though ready to fight the explosion, and you could feel the air ripple around him as he drew on the Force. What a menacing walk he had as he neared the site of the explosion! Keeping as close to him as possible, you held a blaster at the ready and tugged your scarf tight over your face to block out the smoke. Directly behind you were Clees and Alma, both with weapons ready. And then, far behind, was Graem, a bomb in each hand as he seemed to debate whether to follow you or retreat back into the safety of Ren's ship. His bomb's were child's play in comparison to the explosion that reflected off of his helmet.

With a wall of Troopers joining you, Ren led the way around the fire but stopped when another, smaller explosion rocked the burning ship. Everyone waited, hearts beating in their throats. You could feel the blood rushing through your veins, the sweat at your brows from the heat of the fire, the crisp roaring bouncing in your ears.

And then there was a larger explosion, bigger than the warning that had been let off a few seconds before and much closer than the previous two. Again, there was a mass scattering of Troopers like cockroaches from the light. The explosion turned into a round, going off less than a second apart, and you ran like mad to the other side of the burning Trooper transport ship, trying to hide behind anything that could keep you safe from the flying shrapnel.

Flames and smoke had overtaken the area, blocking out any hint of the sunset so that you were left in darkness. The fire raged as the only light, its roar so loud that you couldn't even hear the other explosions nor anyone else around you. The ship was breaking apart in the flames, and you ran to get further away just as another blast lifted you from your feet and into the air.

The heat was overwhelming from the blast, and for a moment you could hear nothing, feel nothing more than just the heat. It was literal fire at your back that shoved you forward, several metres into the air, only to then give you away to gravity so that you could fall hard.

The most sickening snap and squish you had ever felt echoed through your body as you landed, and though you couldn't hear the noise above the flames, you knew that the sound would have been enough to nauseate even the strongest of warriors. Gravity didn't seem to be working as you reached out and down into hot air, and you blinked past the smoke to see that you were held aloft, your fingers just out of reach of the ground as you stayed suspended in the air. Your toes could just touch the asphalt beneath you, but your torso was stuck in place. And that's when the blood began to pool in your mouth and drip from your tongue.

Pain rippled through your body, resonating from your abdomen in sharp pulls. Terrified and shaking, you lowered your head so that you could see your stomach. If you could have let out a scream, you would have. Pierced directly through your abdomen was a long hunk of metal rebar that held you firmly in place so that you could only hover above the smoldering wreckage and slowly slide down the length of the rebar. There was no telling if the metal was rusted, because it was already coated in thick, slimy blood that was seeping from your skin to drip down below. It wasn't a rush of blood, but it was enough to make your head spin.

You opened your mouth to yell, but only bloody spit came out to soak into your scarf. With trembling fingers, you reached for the rebar to hold onto it and feel the full extent of the damage. For a split second, you almost thought that the rebar was only going to be a finger's length inside of your gut, but the second that you touched the rebar and slid down it another inch, you knew by the pain alone that it had pierced completely through. Lifting your head, you could just see the end of the rebar in your periphery, and you stared in shock at seeing it exit through your back. Somehow, you had managed to already slide down a full foot of rebar so that you were trapped in place.

There was no explaining the pain—how it ripped through your flesh and tissue and into whichever organs happened to be below your bellybutton and then off to the side. Were those intestines? A kidney maybe? You couldn't think straight enough to figure it out. All you knew was that the pain was tearing through you with every struggling breath. You screamed out in your mind, thoughts desperate and searching for any consciousness beside your own. Where was Ren? Where were the knights? Would they hear you? You screamed out in your mind once more but weaker as the dizziness and nausea rippled through you.

Tearing your gaze from the rebar, you looked up among the wreckage and smoke to see someone walking forward. A flicker of hope rushed through you as you pleaded that it would be Kylo Ren, there to rescue you. But when the figure crossed through the wall of smoke, you felt your heart nearly stop beating. All of the heat of the fire was gone and replaced with ice. The roar became silence as Raph Niehaus stepped toward you.

He was a terrifying sight. More terrifying than Kylo Ren in action. More terrifying than the rebar that stuck through you. Standing tall and running a hand through his cropped, silver hair, he looked down upon you with the most arrogant smirk upon his face. Slowly, he knelt before you and let his icy, pale eyes scan the outcome of his plan. He took his time in approving of the rebar that struck through your abdomen and then settled his gaze on your face. Ever so gently, he pulled your scarf from your face and placed two fingers below your chin, feeling for the pulse that fluttered through your veins.

“Just as I used to do,” he hummed to himself and then counted the beats. “You always _did_ have a high heart rate. Though at least now it can be blamed on fatal trauma.”

You tried to gather the blood that was pooling in your mouth so that you could spit in his face, but it merely dripped down your chin, wetting his wrist. Raph shook the blood from his hand and held up your chin so that he could see your face. Your lips were turning pale, eyes unfocused.

“My job here is done,” he finally said, and he let your head drop so that all you could see was the twisted metal beneath you.

Your hands slipped from the rebar and fell before you, dripping blood, but you didn't have the strength to move. You were simply hanging there, trying to call out again with your mind, but knowing full well that everything was growing more dim. Your vision had become a tunnel with the edges of night pressing into the periphery until all you could see were dancing stars burning bright against your eyelids for the second time that day. And then every bit of sound was gone as though you had fallen under water. The silence pressed in.

You saw nothing. You heard nothing. And with your limbs floppy before you, you felt nothing. No sense of body. A complete lack of pain. Not even the heat of the fire was discernible on your skin. The only sensation of which you were aware was ice—the coldest of ice seeping into your skin and gripping onto the walls of your arteries to freeze you from the inside out.

Then, that too was gone.

And you were left with nothing.

* * *

 

 **A/N:** Wow. What a chapter, dude. But there's something important I want to talk about, so let's settle in for a (long) minute about disability.

It's been hinted that Alma is sick with  _something_ for a while, though revealing what it is that ails her  (severe rheumatoid arthritis)  has been something I've taken seriously in writing  this chapter . As a disabled person, I've seen the gamut of how people ask about my disability. I've had people very politely ask after being worried; I've had people never know until I had to reveal it months of even years into our relationship; and of course, I've had the people who had no idea how to approach disability and fuck up everything. (Like the people who argue with me that I can get better with a different diet or type of exercise or some new scientific break-through even though my disability is genetic and thus not curable. Or the people who come straight up to me and start making accusations about my health.) So Alma's disability has been important to me.

Hux was going to reveal Alma's illness even though he knew that it wasn't his place, but that wasn't appropriate, and it was very purposeful that the Reader stopped him. In some cases (like between those who are particularly close  and have prior clearance ), it's perfectly okay to reveal information about someone's disability. But Hux is not friends with Alma. He was not revealing information about her health as a friend or confidant but more like an employer telling others behind her back. It wasn't  necessarily  malicious, but it was still not the right thing to do. It removes Alma's autonomy to tell people whom she trusts. Alma had not revealed anything about her health to the Reader in their months of knowing one another for a reason, and so to have Hux inform others without her consent is a gross violation of her privacy.

Not all people approach their disability in this manner, but it's an example that I hope teaches a lesson. Though I'm  _very_ open about having Ehlers Danlos Syndrome and all of the secondary disorders that it causes, not all people are as willing to divulge this very intimate information. For this reason, it's important to approach others with the utmost respect and understand that you are not automatically inclined to receive answers about someone else's health. It's okay to ask kindly if you see someone you know struggling, but to expect to know everyone's health history and disabilities is both unrealistic and inhumane. Just remember to tread lightly; approach cautiously; and always  _always_ be as kind and compassionate as possible in order to respect a person's autonomy and personhood.


	18. Ready to Spit Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There isn't a soul around who isn't ready to rip Raph into pieces because of his attack upon the Knights of Ren, and as you recover from your injuries, a plan is hatched.

**Playlist:** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DCCAEcuOk_g&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZNd3ePxqBQbwsxKWzMq4zP)

* * *

 

Breeah sat cross-legged on the seat of her chair, staring down at the grated metal floor. To her right was Anna, who was leaning back in her chair with legs straight out and arms folded over her chest to rest on her stomach. She looked ready to spit blood as she glared at the empty seat directly in front of her. And then to Anna's right was Tomas. He leaned forward in his seat, his face hidden in his calloused hands as he contemplated what was happening.

Usually, Breeah was the type of person to wiggle about in her seat, posture perfect as she swayed over her computer's keyboard. She was often spacey, eccentric, full of dance-like movements as she went about the ship in a happy-go-lucky haze. Some of it was natural to her personality. Some of it was put on—a defence mechanism after a decade of being owned by a mad man. But now it was gone. Her back was slumped, and the playfulness had left her. She was heartbroken, feeling more damaged than she ever had in her life.

A deep gash ran from just beneath her right eye, down her cheek and jaw, and then picked back up again at her lower neck to slice clean to her collarbone. The wound was still dripping blood into her tunic even though it was a day old, and it burned. Dear God, how it burned as the skin turned red along the lower parts of the gash! Where Breeah's golden brown skin _wasn't_ red from the impending infection, it was deeply bruised, coming in shades of noxious purple and green along her cheek.

She hadn't been able to lift her right arm without gasping as her eyes filled with tears. Each morning, Breeah usually started her day by tying a turban around her thick, black hair, but today it had been too difficult. Anna had tried to help, bless her heart, but it looked more like a child had attempted to tie the turban; that woman was full of venom, but how Breeah adored her for at least trying. Some of Breeah's long hair was sticking out and clinging to the still sticky blood, but she couldn't really bring herself to stick the locks back into the folds of violet fabric. She had no energy for such things.

Breeah looked down past the loose locks of hair to her fingers resting in her lap, which were scabbed over from so many tiny cuts. All of the switchboards and mechanics, wiring and gears from her computer system had caused those cuts on her fingers as Raph forced her to destroy the system. It was punishment. Punishment for giving information to Anna and keeping secrets from him. Destroying her most beloved object had hurt worse than the gash from Raph's knife.

Breeah glanced over to Anna, who was still staring forward at the empty chair and boiling mad. Anna's brown eyes trailed to the door of the small room, narrowing as the lock clicked. Like a powerful tiger, Raph entered the room and sat before the three of them, his hands laced together before his chin as he looked them each in the eye.

“Your bombs were effective as always,” Raph said after a minute of silence.

“Fuck you,” Anna spat whilst straightening her posture in the seat. She wanted to feel as tall as possible before him.

Raph shrugged and gave himself a congratulatory smile. Having Anna and Tomas place the bombs had worked well as a punishment, but it wasn't quite punishment enough to satisfy him. “Regardless of your feelings, she's dead. So now we will discuss _your_ future.”

Anna rolled her eyes and leaned forward as Tomas chanced a peak from between his fingers that still covered his grief-stricken face. As Anna stared Raph directly in the eyes, she didn't know who she felt more sorry for—you, who had been in the way of the bombs she had set, or herself, as she most likely faced the final hours of her life because of this psychopath.

“So what's my future?” Anna growled.

Raph seemed undeterred by her hostility and made a show of leisurely crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair as though he had no stresses in the world. “That all depends on how you behave. If the three of you weren't so senior on board, I would have already killed you. But as it stands, I will most likely need your services. The First Order won't take this attack lightly; I'm sure that you've already assumed as much. When they take their revenge—and I'm sure they will—you three will be the first line of defence.”

Tomas seemed to nod along to this, having expected something like this in the first place. As for Breeah, she stared down into her lap, still trying to concentrate on her scabbed fingers rather than her fate. But Anna... Anna was defiant.

“That's it then?” she said, less of a question than a statement of fact. “You send us all to slaughter, huh? Your final armament.”

A smile tugged onto Raph's face as he stood and made his way over to the door to yank it open. “Precisely.”

* * *

 

General Hux had spent the last four days wanting nothing more than to shred everything around him into pieces. It took all of his effort not to pull a move like Ren and utterly destroy a piece of machinery or strangle the personnel around him, but _somehow_ he had managed. Granted, he was certainly darker than usual. He was more likely to lash out, and his bark had almost turned to a bite. The slightest of problems on board the _Finalizer_ had him yelling and clenching his hands into fists so tightly that he could feel his fingernails dig into his palms to leave bright, red marks in their wake. It was such a minimal amount of pain, and he wished that it could be more.

Standing before a massive plate-glass viewport, Hux looked out at the Starkiller planet below, watching how the perpetual snow storms shifted around the planet to hide the surface. Those storms raged within him as well, twisting and turning, freezing everything that came into contact with it or destroying it completely in a fit of icy wind. That planet was his. _Completely_ his. And now more than ever, it fit that he should have control over such a violent weapon full of angry ice.

And here he was at day four—still furious beyond measure. Stars, he could have ripped people apart with his bare hands over those days. Four days of little to no sleep. Four days of horrified worry as Hux spent every spare moment in the medbay, trying to see if there would be any improvement. Thus far, all of the other injured Troopers and knights had been released from Dr Amena Sayeed's care, but one person remained. And, _of course_ , that one person just had to be _you_.

A nervous cough from behind him pulled Hux from his angst, and he turned around to see one of the newer lieutenants at salute. What was the man's name again? Dopheld? What a _stupid_ name. Hux merely gave a twitch of his head to show that he was listening.

“Sir, you're requested in the medbay by Doctor--”

Before Dopheld could even finish his sentence, Hux had shoved past him and was running at a full sprint down the hall toward the _Finalizer's_ medical wing. He nearly ran into Amena as he entered the medbay and leaned a hand against the wall as he caught his breath.

“How is she?” Hux asked between panting breaths. Amena raised an eyebrow at him. He was an absolute mess—red faced and sleep-deprived, hair falling onto his forehead and three-days-old stubble. She had never seen him look so rough.

“Finally waking up, I believe,” she answered after a moment, and Hux passed her as he ran into your room. Amena followed behind him. “She's briefly awoken a few times, but this seems to be more final. And anyway, the anaesthesia should have finally worn off from the second surgery, so she should be ready to wake up. Though do be aware that her pain medications are still in effect; she'll be groggy.”

Hux stood beside you, still shocked every time that he entered the room. There were so many wires wrapped around you, so many IV lines and monitor hook ups. At least you now only had a nasal cannula for oxygen rather than a tube running down your throat. Stars, how he had hated seeing that! How he had hated seeing you first arrive off of Ren's ship, barely alive and with that cursed rebar still sticking through you! He couldn't remember having ever been so terrified as in that moment when he thought, quite understandably, that you were on death's doorstep.

He leaned in, watching you frown as you awoke. For the most part, you were only aware of the light that seeped through your eyelids. And then came the beeping, gentle and rhythmic as your heart kept pumping. Your heart... _Was_ that your heart? Were you truly alive? Or were you a being of mist and starlight, floating along? You squeezed your eyes, finally feeling within your own body as the muscles in your face all contracted into a grimace. There wasn't any pain there, but the confusion was unsettling. Where were you? How long had you been here? What was wrapped around you? Choking out air and squeezing your fingers? All these things twisting and trapping you in place?

“Snakes,” you whimpered. “Why... are there _snakes EVERYWHERE?_ ”

Hux was confused as he leaned in closer. “What?”

“THERE ARE SO MANY SNAKES!” You didn't understand why you were crying and why you were trying to swat away the oxygen tube and IV. Your hands hit against the wires weakly, without precision, and after a few seconds, you could feel Hux's cold fingers holding your hands down.

“Snakes...” he hummed, finally figuring out that your anaesthetic-boggled mind thought that the wires were snakes. “No, not at all. You're safe.”

His fingers were so cold on your hands, but they were a comfort that you couldn't quite understand. With your eyes still squeezed shut, you could feel Amena remove some of the wires. Something unclipped from your finger; the nasal cannula was removed. You felt less tangled, more free, but you were still confused and groggy as you slowly opened your eyes.

“What... happened?” you asked as your vision gradually came into focus. Amena was to your right, checking a series of monitors and turning one of them off. And to your left was Hux, half sitting on the edge of your hospital bed as he still held your hands down to your sides. Your eyes locked with his for a moment to read the worry and stress, and then you caught sight of his grimace and the stubble that had filled in.

“You look good,” you mumbled, and Hux drew together his eyebrows, unsure of what to make of the compliment.

“Thank you?”

You nodded, closing your eyes again for a little while as you tried to swim through the fog of your mind. After a few minutes, you repeated yourself. “What happened?”

Amena answered as she still tinkered with a monitor. “Well, you're extremely lucky to be alive, and congratulations: you have eleven less centimetres of intestines due to being impaled by a piece of rebar.” Amena pointed over to a container on the medical counter, and within the clear plastic, you could see a hunk of bloodied rebar the length of your forearm.

“Shit,” you hissed, looking over to Hux. “I don't remember any of it.”

“I'm not surprised.” He let go of your hands and ran his thumb over your cheek. “Apparently Alma and Ren found you, and Captain Phasma kept you alive long enough to get you back here.”

Amena stepped over with a look caught somewhere between agitation and satisfaction. “And you can thank me for training Phasma in emergency care. Not to mention removing the rebar—which, General, I'm keeping as a souvenir.”

Hux rolled his eyes but wasn't in the mood to fight Amena over it—especially not when Amena was the main reason why you were alive. If anything, he was greatly in her debt.

You glanced down to where the rebar had been to see layers of gauze taped down to your abdomen, and you let out a long sigh. You felt numb as you took in the bruising that peeked out from the bandaging, and you couldn't tell if it was because of the medication or realisation that you had so narrowly escaped death. “How long is this gonna take to heal?”

“Not too terribly long if you don't get the wound infected,” Amena replied. “Though regardless of how fast you may heal, I'm restricting you from work for the next month--”

“--NO,” you interrupted. You tried to sit up to protest but merely hissed in pain at the wound. For the first time, you could feel precisely where you had been stabbed. “That's not fair!”

“I agree with Doctor Sayeed,” Hux said, voice firm as though he was commanding his army. He gave you a glare that said that he would win this fight, and you groaned in anger. A full month felt like so long! You wanted to go out and destroy Raph _now_ , not a month from now when he could already launch another attack.

Grumbling, you leaned back into the hospital bed and clenched your eyes shut. “I'm not even hurt that bad...”

Hux let out a sarcastic laugh, bitter like poison. “You were stabbed through with rebar and nearly died, received hot shrapnel to your back that looks absolutely horrid, and have been in and out of consciousness for four days, during which time you managed to nearly die twice in surgery.”

“Not to mention that you also slapped two of my aides whilst being put under anaesthesia,” Amena hummed more to herself than you.

“The fact is,” Hux continued, “You _were_ hurt. Terribly so. Far worse than anyone else who wasn't killed on the mission.”

Killed... You hadn't thought about that. “Anyone I know?” You hoped it wouldn't be—hoped that no one you cared about would have been killed because of an attack meant for you.

Hux shook his head. “Troopers. Though some of my best, unfortunately.”

“I'm sorry...”

He sighed, lifting his hand from your cheek to rub at his temples. “Again, an unfortunate loss but expected none the less. Several of the knights were injured. Mostly shrapnel and burns, though Knight Graem has been particularly vocal about a singular scratch on his cheek. It serves him right; his narcissism needs to be brought down a level.”

“And speaking of injuries,” a voice interrupted from the doorway. “I want these stitches removed.”

Kylo Ren was leaning against the doorway of the room, his dark eyes lingering on a row of stitches on his forearm that was exposed from his rolled up sleeve. He was dressed in his training clothes—black pants with suspenders and a grey, long-sleeved shirt that was more holes than anything else thrown over it. At hearing his voice, Amena glanced over to Hux and rolled her eyes.

“Lord Ren, I am not removing them until the ten day mark. We have already discussed this,” she growled.

“Then I will remove them _myself_ ,” he shot back.

Amena groaned but stood her ground, hands balled up on her hips. She was such a little thing standing before Ren, but something about her felt just as powerful as him. “Those stitches run down to the muscle. Remove them, and you will face permanent damage.”

He seemed to think about it for a moment, glancing from Amena to the stitches before letting out an annoyed groan. Then his focus shifted to you, and a spark seemed to dance in Kylo Ren's eye at seeing you awake. He tempted a half smile, showing his teeth as he did so.

“This is a sight I didn't expect,” he mused. Ren stepped over to the edge of your bed, raising an eyebrow at Hux who kept beside you. “Honestly, I hadn't expected you to survive.”

Hux was crossed, his eyebrows pulling together as he glared at Ren. “She's far stronger--”

“Save it. I know,” he interrupted. Walking to the other side of your bed, he knelt on the floor and raised a hand to your head. You could feel him step into your mind, light as can be as he twisted through a few memories. Hux protested, but his voice was drowned out by the memories that Ren conjured. You could once again see yourself behind him, getting ready to land amidst all of the broken ships in the abandoned lot, but as your feet touched the pavement, the memory fell to black. Ren dug deeper, trying to push past the darkness, but there was nothing. He cursed under his breath and withdrew, a sour look spreading on his face.

“You don't remember the attack,” he confirmed.

“No. Not at all,” you answered. “I know it was Raph. Probably bombs, right?”

He nodded. “A series of them, and only after they had finished did Alma find you.”

“And you cut me free?” you asked.

Once again, Ren nodded. He glanced over to Hux, both of them meeting one another's eyes with a look of fury that seemed to hint that Ren had just leapt into Hux's mind as well.

Hux's face turned from anger to pain to absolute loathing before he snapped, “Well, _of course_ , I'm going to kill him!”

Ren smiled and pulled out from Hux's mind. “Then we have the same goal.”

You looked from Hux to Ren, still feeling confused about everything that was occurring. “Are we talking about Raph? Because I think I want to kill him the most.”

“And you have every reason to, though you are in no state--”

“No,” you protested, this time more firm. “It's my right. I should get to kill him with my own hands. After everything he's done to me, I deserve it.”

This wasn't what Hux had wanted to hear from you after having just awoken, but it didn't surprise him in the least bit. The look of determination that had taken over you told him that you would get your way. _You_ would kill Raph Niehaus, come hell or high water, and there was nothing that he would be able to do about it other than make you wait. But he had a feeling that after a month of not being allowed to work, you would leap for Raph's throat the very second you were released.

“In which case,” Hux sighed, looking to both you and Kylo Ren. “We will need a plan.”

* * *

 

General Hux was even more protective of you during the time you spent healing, though it surprised nobody that you were a strong, quick healer. After another few days of observation and rest, you were released to rest in your quarters. Or you _would_ have rested in your quarters if Hux hadn't demanded that you stay in his own. He argued that you would be safer there, more comfortable, but you were about one hundred percent certain that Hux actually just wanted an excuse to keep you close to him.

You weren't about to complain about this when Hux's bed was comfier and twice the size of your own. Tough luck on him if he had wanted to sleep comfortably in his own bed, because the majority of the time when Hux came back from twelve hours of work, you were sprawled across the blankets with Millicent sleeping on Hux's pillow. For his part, Hux would usually let out a sigh before getting ready for the evening as you continued to sleep. And it was usually as he was just settling down that you would awake, wide-eyed and ready to go.

Without a set schedule, your days and nights had shifted around, leaving you strangely alert throughout the late evenings. You ended up spending this time with Hux, lounging on his couch as he sat at a desk nearby, working late into the night. He never seemed to stop working. Every spare moment, he was fussing over something, hitting through transmissions and researching military strategies on his datapad. Sometimes it became maddening, and you found yourself sneaking up behind him to lay your hands on his shoulders to ease his stress.

“You should find a hobby,” you joked after kissing at his temples. You had witnessed this same pattern for three days straight of Hux getting progressively more agitated at whatever plans he was going over and staying up far too late with little progress.

Hux groaned and rolled his eyes. “My hobbies are the First Order.”

“No, that doesn't count.”

“Did _you_ have hobbies when you were an enslaved assassin?” he snapped.

You narrowed your eyes at him, hands flinching off of his shoulders. But then you slowly settled each palm onto his back as you took in a deep breath. “I liked to shit talk on people I didn't like.”

“ _That_ was your hobby?”

“There weren't too many options.”

You pushed at Hux's chair, swivelling it away from his desk so that he was facing you. Seeing him dressed in his civilian clothes was still such a delight. His uniform was finely fitted, but there was nothing like seeing him at ease, with his hair still damp and flopping over his forehead and a sweater clinging to him. He had no idea how much better he looked that way.

Hux sighed, accepting that there was little more that he could do when this fatigued, and he set his hands on your hips as you stood before him. In just a tank top and shorts, he could see the edges of the bandaging that covered the rebar wound, and he gently lifted your tank top to see the patch of bright, white gauze.

“How much does it hurt?”

You shrugged but could feel a series of stitches sting at both your back and stomach. And then inside, you felt bruised to the core—mostly because you _were_ bruised completely through. Deep tissue and muscle bruising had come in black and purple all along your abdomen and your lower back.

“It's not as bad as it looks,” you lied.

Hux raised an eyebrow but didn't push you. Instead, he covered the wound and pulled at the back of your thighs so that you were kneeling on the chair and could seat yourself on his knees. Facing him, you let your fingers run through his hair, and he closed his eyes, breathing in deeply.

“I spoke to Ren today,” he mentioned with eyes still closed. “About a plan of revenge.”

You paused for a moment, your fingers still deep in his hair. For the most part, Hux had avoided the topic of Raph, but it had burned in your mind since having awoken in the medbay.

He continued. “He's rather taken with the idea of starting a mutiny on Raph's ship, though that would involve great deals of information from you. And seeing as how you are restricted from work for a month--”

“Don't give me that,” you groaned, temporarily yanking at his hair. He merely smiled and opened his eyes as he listened. “Giving you information about the inner workings of his ship and crew is _not_ the same as work. It's...” You searched for a word. “It's intel. Totally different. Anything you guys need to know, I can help with. In this state, it's kinda all I'm good for anyway.”

Hux nodded along. “We want to provide protection to your friend Anna and anyone else she can convince to join her in taking out Raph.”

“And at what point in this plan do I come in to personally kill Raph?”

“When we send a handful of TIE-fighters to the ship in conjunction with the Knights to finish the mutiny.”

Now _that_ didn't sound like too bad of a plan. You stared over Hux's shoulder, watching Millicent hunt a toy mouse as you thought through what it would be like to step off of Kylo Ren's ship with the other knights and see Raph caught in a trap. Millicent hunched low before her mouse, butt wiggling and tail held straight in the air before she pounced, the mouse now held in her mouth as she rolled onto her back and kicked with her back legs. It was the motion that would snap her prey's neck, if only it was a living animal. And you thought about Raph's neck, thought about what it would be like to actually lay hands on him to destroy him. Would you have the strength to do it? Or would a lifetime of fear bubble to the surface, choking out your own air instead?

You swallowed nervously, tasting bile beneath your tongue, but at the same time, you were determined. Fear could be overcome. “Just tell me what to do, then,” you told Hux. “Whatever information you need, I'll deliver.”

* * *

 

Sending a transmission through to Anna to seek specific information was more difficult than you had at first imagined. For some reason, you had thought it would be simple. Check if she was there, send a sentence asking for coordinates and times and dates, receive an answer, finish healing, kill Raph. In that order. Instead, you were left with message after message being sent with no reply.

Kylo Ren was opposite you on Hux's couch, watching as you bashed through yet another transmission on your datapad. He had meant to stop by to update you on the other knights and what kinds of training Alma had in store for you as you finished healing, but instead, he had fallen asleep for two hours on the couch as you napped on the other end. If it hadn't been for Millicent jumping onto the couch and trying to make herself comfortable atop the mess of tangled legs, neither of you would have awoken before Hux returned.

“I've sent twelve transmissions in three days, and still nothing,” you groaned. Your messages had merely asked if Anna was there, over and over and over again. You didn't want to get specific in the transmissions yet, but you at least wanted her to reply.

Ren reached out a hand and pulled the datapad from your lap with the Force. He held it for a moment, biting at his lip in thought before starting to tap through a message.

“What are you saying?” you asked whilst peaking over his shoulder.

“I'm telling her to reply before I'm forced to gut her.”

“A little more threatening than I was going for, but I mean, that _sounds_ like something I would say. So sure; go ahead.”

Tossing the datapad back into your lap, Ren stood up and slowly stretched as Millicent made circles around his ankles. You watched the transmission go through on the datapad and then alert with an incoming message. Eyes wide with surprise, you tapped to read it.

_8-00-140-419-8501: Who is this?_

You glanced over at Ren who was watching your every move, and nervously, you replied.

_9-00-110-819-9002: This isn't Anna?_

A minute passed in heavy silence.

_8-00-140-419-8501: This is Raph._

On instinct alone, you threw the datapad away from you as though it had sent an electric shock through your body. Heart pounding in your throat, you stared at the datapad on the other end of the couch and leaned away from it. Your hands felt clammy, and the healing wound on your stomach may as well have been filled with shards of ice.

“It's Raph,” you whispered with anxiety caught in your lungs.

Ren's eyes narrowed, and he plucked the datapad from the couch to read the transmissions. In a second, a wicked smile crossed his face, and his fingers went to work.

_8-00-140-419-8501: I demand to know who was trying to contact my property._

_9-00-110-819-9002: I'm sure you would._

_8-00-140-419-8501: Again, who is this?_

_9-00-110-819-9002: Just the person who stole your best assassin._

_8-00-140-419-8501: Am I to assume that I'm communicating with Kylo Ren?_

_9-00-110-819-9002: You would be correct._

_8-00-140-419-8501: Stealing one's property is a criminal offence, but I suppose you hold yourself above the law._

_9-00-110-819-9002: You assume I even care about laws. Anyway, it was worth it._

_8-00-140-419-8501: A pity then that you had such short time with her services. By now, you should be aware that I always get the last laugh; her death was rather satisfying. As were the deaths of your Troopers._

Ren let out a low chuckle. “He believes that you're dead.”

Your stomach was quaking in protest. How could Ren sit there and be so nonchalant as he talked with the man who had enslaved and tried to murder you? That shit-eating grin was still smeared across his face as he enjoyed every minute of taunting Raph. And maybe it would have been a little satisfying, a little humorous, if you weren't still recovering from a rebar from the torso, but as it stood, you only felt fear.

“Stars, he makes me so nervous! You know, he tried to kill you, too. Why aren't _you_ more fearful?” you asked him.

“Because there are other emotions that outweigh fear.”

You thought about this for a moment, feeling the weight of your fear settle in your stomach. Searching through the dark, you pulled at any other emotion that was there. Anxiety. Mild pain. Irritation. All were so negative. But then there was another emotion, hiding behind the surface, ready to break free. It was different. Bouyant. Light. It weighed nothing and yet was stronger than anything else that you could find, and the word sat at the tip of your tongue. _Love_.

“Not my emotion of choice,” Ren mentioned, having heard your thoughts as though you had yelled them out. “But I suppose that gets the job done.”

Kylo Ren walked over and knelt beside you as you still stayed on the couch, and he held the datapad out with a long arm. The datapad flashed for a moment and then showed Ren's mirror image with just a hint of your shoulder and hair on the edge.

“Get in. I'm sending him a picture,” he demanded.

You baulked, moving even further away with a whine. “To Raph? No!”

Ren scoffed and pulled you beside him to snap a picture. It flashed back onto the screen, Ren smiling like the little shit that he was, and a slightly blurry picture of you trying to get out of the frame. This seemed to be good enough for him, because after a few seconds, the picture had been sent through the transmission.

“What have you done?” you mumbled, throwing your head back against the couch so that you could stare up at the ceiling. Millicent took the opportunity to jump onto your lap, and you hissed as her paw stepped on your stomach. You couldn't help but give Ren a nasty glare as though it was entirely his fault, but he was too tickled with himself to care. After another minute, he laughed to himself and showed you the newest message from Raph.

_8-00-140-419-8501: I will finish the job and kill you with her._

Ren smirked as he replied.

_9-00-110-819-9002: You will try, and you will fail._

And thus ended the first series of transmissions that would occur between Raph Niehaus and Kylo Ren, but they would not be the last.

It was as Ren sent the final message that Hux walked through the door and stood in the entryway with a confused, exasperated expression that made him look well past his age.

“Ren, why are you in my quarters?”

Rather than answer him, Ren gave a motion of his hand for Hux to join him by you on the couch and take a look at the datapad. Within seconds of scanning the messages, Hux looked ready to bite through Ren's neck and rip out his throat.

“You're taunting him like an insolent child,” Hux snapped as he turned off the datapad.

With a shrug, Kylo Ren moved toward the door. “Honestly, can you say that you would have acted any differently?”

Hux's jaw was clenched as he glared at Kylo Ren, arms folded over his chest as he refused to answer. The fact of the matter was that Hux _would_ have sent along the same cocky threats, though perhaps his words would have been sharper, carried more weight. He would have also tried to pry him for information, but the success of such an attempt was questionable.

Ren seemed to know as much, or perhaps he was lurking around in Hux's brain, because he smirked in the doorway before shoving his helmet onto his head and making his exit.

General Hux frowned toward the now closed door and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Now more than ever, he wished to crush Raph between his fingers and squeeze the life from him. “So he threatens you once again...”

You scooted closer to him, your hand running down Hux's back, and he shivered beneath your touch. Slowly, you curled your legs onto the couch and lied down so that your head could rest on his lap. Reaching up, you plucked Hux's military cap from his head and ruffled through his hair. He finally tore his gaze from the door and raised an eyebrow at you before letting out a sigh.

“How do you manage to still be playful at a time like this?” he asked.

A smile tried to tug at your lips as you kept running your hand through his hair. How little fear that Hux had experienced. He didn't know how it could twist its way into your being to both paralyse and yet give fuel to the fire that coursed through your veins. Fear was fickle. It was multifaceted and confusing as it sent your heart pounding into a frenzy, and yet the strangest of things could subdue that terror. Playfulness was merely a by-product of the one thing stronger than fear. And as the seconds ticked by, you understood this as a truth greater than any.

“Don't get me wrong—I could totally sit here and cower on my own, because Raph scares the shit out of me,” you answered, thinking about what Ren had mentioned of fear shortly before. “But... No matter how much I fear _him_ , I love _you_ more. And right now? I'd rather distract myself with you and plot his blood on our hands. And then, fear can wait.”

* * *

 **A/N:** Hi guys!  It's been a while; sorry!  I've been busy working as a caregiver to a lady on hospice plus fasting and doing stuff for Ramadan, so I haven't had much time.  Chapters will probably be coming out slower over the next few weeks.  In the meantime, I hope that you are all doing well.  <3


	19. The Battle On Board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan of attack is set against Raph, and the battle begins for a new kind of freedom.

 

**** **Playlist:** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnABRPS37hk&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhYPInu0ygPuxyE9nBEAJZTt)

** Content ** **Warning:** As always, I enjoy writing gore a bit too much.

* * *

 

 

Raph Niehaus adjusted  a pair of circular-lensed glasses as he  gl ared down at the datapad in his lap. He had been sitting in the plush lounge of his ship for over an hour now, sending transmissions back and forth with that damned Kylo Ren. The man was infuriating, always bragging about having you in  _his_ possession, sending along pictures to show you recovering. How in the hell such a young,  immature bastard had gotten into a position of power was beyond him. If Raph had been in charge of such a man, he would have beaten him into shape or killed him long ago.

All of those messages over the past week had him  fuming , but he refused to show it. That anger was his to keep, his to allow to fester within him as he remained cold and stoic. Keeping calm was a weapon all on its own as he tried to pry information from Ren concerning his whereabouts and  anything to help in planning an attack, but as of yet, Ren had been entirely unyielding.

Raph felt his blood boil as another transmission was sent through. The pounding of his heart against his ribs told him to kill. To destroy Ren. Destroy you. Destroy the entire First Order and leave absolutely nothing left standing.

Lurking just outside of Raph's lounge was Breeah, stepping silently through the dim hallways of the ship with a new recruit following at her  heels. The newest assassin on board, Suzet, was a tiny girl who reminded her of a ghost. Not yet an adult and barely coming up to Breeah's shoulders, Suzet was always quiet, always keeping to shadows and blending into them with her midnight skin and round, dark eyes. It was a mystery to Breeah how the girl had managed to survive more than a month under Raph, but she was happy for it. She needed to see some life instead of all this death and destruction.

“I'm going to teach you something,” Breeah whispered as they continued down the hall.

Suzet tipped her head to he side but only let out a little ' _hmm?_ ' in response.

Breeah stopped before a large panel against the wall and pulled a screwdriver from her pocket to remove the screws. Soon, the panel  was removed entirely, and an array of wires and circuit boards was exposed.

“Whenever something is taken away from you,” Breeah explained whilst twisting her fingers between the wires, “You can always get it back. You just have to be willing to break a few rules.”

This didn't seem to be what Suzet wanted to hear, and she took a small step back. “We shouldn't be doing this...”

Breeah shrugged and giggled to herself, the healing gash down her cheek becoming more apparent as she smiled. “I promise, this will be worth it.”

* * *

 

It was always difficult to tell when the morning  arrived when in the darkness of space. Supposedly, people on planets with sunshine built circadian rhythms, though this had always sounded rather unrealistic to you after spending the vast majority of your life in space. But by the digital clock on Hux's dresser, you knew that it was nearly six in the morning. Hux would be waking soon, readying himself for the day by transforming from the sleepy, messy-haired man that lied beside you to the posh, sharp general who could command an army with a mere flick of his eyes.

Hux's arm was draped lazily over you, his fingers fitting between  your  ribs and soaking up your warmth. He was always so cold, so pale, so tired. You rolled over, twisting into him, and he let out a long sigh whilst holding you to his body.

“It's been a month,” you whispered, your mind wandering to the nearly healed wound that had run through your torso.

Hux squinted with his still closed eyes and  gave you a frown. “I suppose that means you want to be allowed to work today?”

“It'd be nice.” You ran your fingers over his cheek, flicking away some of the red hair that fell against his eyebrows. Soon it would be slicked back, pristine. For now, you enjoyed seeing him in his natural  state of being.

You could feel Hux's fingers move from your ribs and slide down the skin of your stomach until they met with the puckering scar where the rebar had punctured through  your abdomen . His fingertips lingered there, tracing along the new flesh, and goosebumps erupted along his touch. Then his fingers started a slow climb up your stomach, lingering on your chest to give a squeeze. He shifted his weight and leaned over you to give you a kiss, his tongue searching along your lips as his hands wandered ever further across your body. There was always such a contrast  to him —warm lips, cold fingers—and you could always tell precisely where he was touching you.

You pressed into his kiss and let your hands travel along his bare back, fingers tapping along light muscle and freckled skin. He was an intoxicant each morning, making your head spin as he kissed roughly against your lips and then down your neck. His hands would follow the curves of your body as his mouth moved lower, and he gave a final kiss upon the scar just below and to the side of your belly button.

“I suppose that you may go back to work,” he sighed with his lips still against your stomach. You ruffled through his hair as he held onto your hips and looked up with those glass-coloured eyes. “But we don't need to be in uniform for another hour. Surely we can enjoy this last portion of your time off.”

A massive grin had spread across your face, and you weren't entirely sure if it was because you could finally feel useful or because of the way that Hux was looking up at you as he kissed a line further down your stomach until reaching your underwear. Either way, you let out a  trilling laugh and tugged at his hair with an arch of your back. This would be a good hour.

* * *

 

The only way that you could describe the feeling of being back in your all black, scarf over your face, and following Hux like a shadow was to say that it was euphoric. The joy that coursed through you to feel alive, to feel your senses heighten as you kept an eye on him and everyone around you, was overwhelming. You knew that you had missed working, but you hadn't realised just how much until that day.

The ship felt different now that you were free of the oppressive waiting period, and that word bounced around in your head.  _Free_ . It was a word that you had scarcely used your entire life because it hadn't been a reality, but at this moment, you thought that maybe—just  _maybe—_ you understood what it was to be free. You still considered yourself to be owned by Kylo Ren, of course, but there was a certain freedom in having one's sense of purpose.

You followed General Hux as he went about his business during the morning and then  begrudgingly  spent your afternoon back in the Knights' training room. Though you had been doing light training with Alma over the course of your healing,  you still noticed some muscle loss. Stretching out on the floor of the gym, you watched your reflection in the long mirrors that ran along one of the walls. The hints of shrapnel burn were at your shoulders, and you knew that hidden just beneath your shirt was the worst scar that you had collected yet.  But it was all really par for the course by this point. Assassins were meant to have scars. They were battles survived. Wars won.

It was as you were studying these scars that you heard the intercom at the door calling your name and beckoning your immediate return to the bridge of the ship. For a split second, you thought that your heart had leapt into your throat, and you jumped to your feet, running a wild dash to the other end of the ship without even bothering to ask why you were being summoned. An awful stitch pulled at your side as you ran into the bridge and leaned against a piece of machinery, panting.

Your eyes scanned the bridge until they found Hux standing beside several captains, all of them looking at a transmission monitor and hurriedly discussing whatever was on the screen. Wiping away the sweat from your brow, you jogged over, and Hux immediately cleared a space for you before the monitor.

“Just the person I wanted,” he mentioned. “Can you make sense of this?”

On the screen was a picture taken of hand-written code from a bizarre transmission number comprised of mostly zeros. The nervousness that had been burning your lungs all the way to the bridge seemed to dissipate in a second, and you traced a finger along the code.

“Yeah,” you answered after a minute of deciphering. You were already grinning. “It's from Breeah. They're... I think they're coordinates, actually.”

Hux nodded. “Could they be to Raph's ship?”

“It seems likely.” You tapped against the monitor once again and then typed in the decoded message.

_ 0-00-000-019-9100:  (0.44377, -31.40248, 3.23204) _

General Hux motioned toward one of the nearby lieutenants and ordered for the coordinates to be entered, and within seconds, a hologram of a map appeared in the centre of the darkened bridge. Zooming in upon solar systems and stars and nebulae, the map landed in an area of deep space that was inhabited by only the fractured shards of a destroyed planet.

The light reflected upon your face as you stepped forward into the map, watching as it settled on an area of space. Fingers stretching forward, you could have almost grasped the light  like a tangible object,  b ut it danced between your fingers, glowing in soft greens and reds and blues.

You turned around with the light now to your back and watched Hux step away from his men to stand before you.

“He's gone there before,” you told him. “Raph likes to hide the ship in graveyards of dead planets.”

“Then we shouldn't waste any time.” Hux pulled a comm from his belt and immediately called for Kylo Ren to join you on the bridge. “Bring your knights,” he commanded as though he had  _ any _ authority over them. “We're leaving to kill Raph Niehaus.”

* * *

 

As it would happen, Kylo Ren and General Hux had already spent a considerable amount of time finalising plans of attack should they ever find Raph's ship. Immediately, the  _ Finalizer _ stepped into a state of intricately-controlled chaos. Hux had laid out a system of plans that covered everything from the deploy ment of a squadron of TIE-fighters to who exactly would be joining them for such a volatile mission. And as it stood, he had very precise  instructions as to who would be allowed to fight  against Raph.

“First, we bring only the knights I trust,” Hux growled as he sent out commands across the ship. You followed beside him, listening as he explained everything. “Even if Salim and Regine were available, I wouldn't allow them, and there's no way in all the galaxies I would ever let Graem step foot  near me again. Not after his carelessness with those bombs. No... He will not join us. This mission will be for Ren and Alma to lead as Clees and Kelakh follow along. They are the only ones I trust to not kill us all.”

This didn't really surprise you; Hux was more than vocal about his distaste for half of the knights. He never seemed to shut up about them, neither during your month of healing, nor during the time it took to get all plans in order so that everyone could leave for Breeah's transmitted coordinates.

Walking briskly through the hallways of the  _ Finalizer _ , you and Hux entered the hangar to board Kylo Ren's ship with a gaggle of Troopers following behind and yet another group of pilots ready in their TIE-fighters. Ren's ship was packed to the brim when you arrived, and you barrelled your way to a seat near a viewport to stare out at the hangar floor. Ignoring the constant movement on board and barking of directions, you concentrated on the expanse of painted lines on the tarmac that then faded in minutes to the darkness of space, sprinkled with starlight.

The further you travelled from the  _ Finalizer _ , the faster your heart seemed to pound in your chest. Your hands were sweaty, gripping a little too tight against the armrest of the chair. Those nerves... You wished they weren't there. You wished that a mission to kill Raph was no different than any other—just another day of work that could be forgotten come evening. But you knew better than to think that you could ignore this. Raph wasn't an ordinary target. He was terrifying. Lethal. He was the thing of your nightmares, and even though the thought of seeing him dead was appealing, the idea of  _ getting _ to that point had you in a silent frenzy.

A hand at your shoulder sent your head whipping around, your hand already at the  blade that was strapped against your thigh.

“Now that's not needed.” Clees was behind you, leaning an armoured  elbow against the back of your seat. His helmet was held before him, all mangled and starting to tarnish. It seemed to suit all of the scars that lied across his stubble-filled face.

“Damn it,” you hissed and let your hand slip from the knife. “I'm on edge enough as it is without you scaring me.”

“You know I didn't mean it.”

You nodded. Clees didn't play games like Graem or Salim.

“What is it?” you asked after a few seconds of disgruntled  sighs .

Clees leaned against the edge of your chair, and you could see his brother Kelakh watching from a few paces away, keeping silent but alert. Just a little past him was Ren and Hux, both discussing who knew what with hushed, tense voices. There was no doubt in your mind that Kelakh was also listening to them.

“That bastard, Raph,” Clees started, his face falling into a grimace, “He broke my leg in the explosion.” Of course, Clees had been treated with a bone-knitter immediately and was fine, but you understood his anger. He continued, “I saw him there—just moving around the fire. Searching... probably for  _ you _ . Do you remember any of that?”

You shook your head. The entire event felt foreign to you without having made a single memory of the attack.

Clees sighed. “Well... I'll tell you something: I've never seen someone look like him. Look so calm as he was killing people. I'm not the type to get scared; I've seen a lot. But when I was laying there, pinned under rubble and watching him go in and out of smoke... I swear to you, I was scared.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You didn't like it. Didn't like seeing someone like Clees, a war-hardened knight, say something so vulnerable.

“Because I want you to know that I don't blame you for being terrified right now. And... regardless of what happens today, you have my loyalty. Win or lose against Raph, you will  _ always _ have the protection of me and my brother.” At this, Clees made a fist, and his  blond  eyebrows pulled together into an intense seriousness. From behind him, Kelakh made a similar gesture with the smallest of nods.

You didn't quite know what to make of the semi-formal display. Loyalty had never made much sense to you. In the past, you had merely been obedient, willing to kill or act as you were commanded and not think of the reasons why—only the punishment if you did  _ not _ . But suddenly, you were struck with the realisation that these men were putting their lives on the line for you not because they had been told to do so by Kylo Ren or General Hux but because they genuinely wanted to help you, come hell or high water.

A knot hardened in your throat, and you forced yourself to give Clees a smile that felt unnatural against your worried face.

“Thanks.” The word was hardly audible, but it seemed to get the point across. Clees nodded, slowly  and controlled. There was something rather final about it, and for a moment, you were struck with even more fear at the impending battle. Who would be lost in this fight? Stars, you hoped it wouldn't be any of the knights. Not after all they had done for you.

Hux appeared beside Clees and gave him a look of steely affirmation before taking a seat beside you that had been vacated by a Trooper.

“You have more friends than you know,” he said, more to himself than you. “Ren continues to surprise me with his dedication to you, and those brothers are the same.”

“And Alma?” you asked, wondering what the last knight on board thought.

“She would follow Ren to her own death,” he answered. Somehow, that didn't surprise you. Never had you asked someone to die for you, but right about now, it felt like you had the entire universe ready and lined up. It was a humbling feeling.

Hux continued to speak with his hand gripping your knee, giving a squeeze every now and then with the emphasis of his words. “I've been told to stay on board during the fight,” he sighed. “Safety is a concern, though I am not pleased that Ren should  _ command _ me to stay back. I could have made that decision on my own without my authority being disregarded.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” you tried to tease, but the nerves that jumbled inside of you made the remark sound genuine rather than sarcastic. Hux looked sour as he narrowed his eyes in your direction; Ren's condescension had burrowed deep beneath his skin.

“When we arrive, I want you to promise to keep safe,” he mentioned, noticing that the ship was starting to slow as rubble of a long-since destroyed planet sailed past in space. Raph's ship must have been drawing nearer. “Do anything,  _ absolutely anything _ , to keep from being harmed. I don't care what that means, who has to get in the way. Promise me that you will survive.”

There wasn't much promising that you could do when it came to this particular battle, and you said as much, which didn't satisfy Hux. He reached forward, his gloved fingers holding on to either side of your face and sea-glass eyes boring into your own. He was always serious, but at this moment, it was so much stronger. It was a pained, worried seriousness that dripped off of him to chill the air.

“Promise,” he commanded in a whisper.

You hesitated for a moment, but finally agreed. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” And instantly, his lips were on yours for a short kiss, not caring which of the knights or Troopers saw. He was a general; what should he care? Why bother hiding at a time like this?

As he pulled away, you saw a series of TIE-fighters fly past the viewport, and Ren's ship slowed to a stand-still. _We're_ _here_ , you thought, feeling icy goosebumps take over your arms and legs. Hux stood abruptly and began to bark out commands to the Troopers who were gathering at the still closed entrance ramp. He delegated half to follow along with Clees and Kelakh, who would be in charge of securing the hangar's system controls, and the other half would follow Ren and Alma, keeping your safety as a priority as you kept behind the two powerful knights.

From the viewport, you could see the reflected light of orange explosions as the TIE-fighters barged their way into the hangar, and you took a deep breath as Ren's ship sailed out of the dark and onto the all-too-familiar tarmac of the hangar. A blaster in each hand and a long vibroknife at your thigh, you stood behind Kylo Ren and Alma, jittery as you waited for the ramp to open. And as it released with a hiss, and the Troopers rushed forward in a protective semi-circle, you launched yourself into the battle.

* * *

 

The attack really shouldn't have come as a surprise to Raph, but he hadn't  quite  expected a dozen TIE-fighters to show up and blast through his hangar and several parts of his ship. From the bridge, his eyes glanced over the monitor that projected each system failure and fire. He didn't say a word to his crew members who were trying to get everything under control. Instead, he grabbed a blaster from his holster and marched forward toward a scarcely used control panel. Yanking down on a lever, the entire ship went into lock down, red lights flashing and sirens blaring through the halls as the ship when into the defensive.

He was fast, excellently prepared for attack. Within a minute, he had gathered most of his assassins in the bridge and was able to place them around each hangar entrance to start the impending battle.  All of them he armed, creating an instant army of incredibly dangerous and incredibly well-trained assassins.  And then he directed another group of assassins to any ship still in their control so that an attack against the TIE-fighters could begin. Explosions began to rock the ship as a battle was launched amidst the space rubble, and the bridge became illuminated in blaster fire from just outside.

But it struck  Raph as he waited behind in the bridge, watching his assassins through the closed circuit streaming through the monitors, that there were a few assassins missing.

Anna was well armed like the rest of the assassins, but she had not immediately positioned herself in the hallways leading to the hangar. Instead, she had fled to her tiny bunk, waiting for Tomas to join her. He rushed inside, black hair a mess from sweat and running, and a large blaster bouncing from its strap over his chest.

“What do we do?” he panted, hands on his knees.

Anna strapped a few throwing knives to her arm and motioned with a finger for him to follow her into the hall. “We trust Breeah's transmission went through, and that this's Kylo Ren here to kill Raph,” she answered. “And we trust the First Order's not here to kill us, too.”

The hallway outside Anna's room was nearly empty as the red lights flashed and sirens wailed, and the only other people in sight were Breeah and the new recruit, Suzet, running in their direction.

“Plan. Give me a plan,”  Breeah called. “We're trained in poisons; not fighting.”

Anna knew as much. “Go to the upstairs door to the hangar. It's least likely to be opened. If Ren's men take over the hangar's controls—which they will, let's not kid ourselves—you guys join 'em? Got it?”

Breeah nodded and pulled Suzet along as they both started running in the opposite direction from where Anna and Tomas were headed. Straight into the lion's den, Anna marched for the main entrance to the hangar.

Each of the hangar doors were flanked by assassins, all watching through thick plates of transparisteel. Some of the TIE-fighters were landing inside, Troopers running out in  sets . Anna watched as  her fellow assassins prepared, and she held up both blasters before her, pointing them directly at their backs. Tomas stood beside her, his own massive blaster at the ready.

“Drop everything!” Anna commanded, and the assassins turned around, surprised to hear such a stupid thing at the beginning of a battle. But when they saw the blasters pointed towards them, they knew that this wasn't a command sent down the line from Raph. This was something else entirely.

Anna shouted in their direction, her question point blank, “Are ya with Raph or me?”

They stared at her, completely confused. One of the men yelled back Raph's name on instinct alone, and Anna immediately shot him in the knee. As he fell to the ground, she kicked him in the face, which quickly shut up his howling yells of pain.

“Again, Raph or me?”

Two more of the assassins shot toward Anna, but their fire was instantly neutralised by Tomas's blast that sent both of them back into the door to fall to the floor as separate body pieces. The last assassin standing was a younger woman who looked down in shock and then pointed to Anna. Named Marjoree, she was fairly new aboard, fairly quiet, fairly unskilled. It didn't matter one way or the other whether she joined this mutiny, but Anna at least didn't want to kill her. The poor girl couldn't even make words in the face of Anna and Tomas, but her decision was evident enough.

Anna nodded. “Good. Then follow me.”

* * *

 

Storm Troopers seemed to be absolutely everywhere as they ran from the TIE-fighters and Ren's ship to flood the hangar, all armed and at the ready. It wasn't the largest of armies, but you were amazed by just how many Troopers were there. In the middle of a sea of them was Kylo Ren, who stepped from his ship with his ignited lightsabre in hand and Alma and yourself directly behind. He scanned the area and then motioned for Clees and Kelakh to run to the side with their Troopers. The knights led forward with blaster fire to file through a small hangar door that lead to the system controls. And within only a minute, they were in an upstairs booth, giving a signal to Ren that all was secure.

“Ren,” you called from directly behind him.

_ What? _ He responded directly in your head.

“Can you search through the Force and find Anna?”  _ Is that even possible? _

He didn't reply but stepped forward, his grip on his sabre tightening ever so slightly.

“She's on the other side of that door,” Ren answered aloud, and he pointed in the door's direction with the sabre. Slowly, he lowered  his sabre and raised his left hand, fingers flexing and then grabbing at the air as the door twisted and ripped from its hinges. On the other side was Anna, Tomas, and their newly recruited ally, Marjoree. Smiling her crooked grin, Anna stepped forward into the hangar, her blasters held over her head with hands up. Tomas and Marjoree followed along, dropping their blasters to rest at their sides.

“Now Ren, this ain't us surrenderin' to ya,” Anna call ed . “This is us  _joinin'_ ya.”

Kylo Ren gave a nod, already knowing as much. “Then lead us to Raph.”

There was nothing that Anna wanted to do more.

Scouting ahead, Anna led her ragtag team of assassins, Troopers, and now knights toward the centre of the ship. By this point, she was sure that Raph had most likely barricaded himself inside of his private lounge rather than stay in the bridge where he could be attacked at multiple angles. He was most likely watching the battle from there and preparing himself for if his still loyal assassins couldn't stop the mutineers. All along the way, Anna and Tomas kept their blasters pointed forward at anyone they encountered.

“Choose now! Me or Raph!” It was the repeated command that was punctuated with blaster fire for anyone who chose Raph. Anyone who chose Anna was shuffled behind the Troopers, their lives being spared.

Alma seemed to find this rather amusing. “She takes no prisoners,” she commented to you and Ren as Anna shot at another assassin who should stupidly choose to follow Raph. “She has strength.”

“She's a head bitch in charge,” you replied,  not knowing if it was strength or stupidity or just unbridled apathy that fuelled Anna . You had a feeling that Alma was grinning from behind her mask.

The halls of the ship were so incredibly familiar to you as everyone moved forward. Each twist and turn brought back thirteen years of memories that flashed through your mind. You saw where he had hurt you, where you had been crushed time and again both physically and emotionally. You could feel the sting of healed scars that graced your skin and feel Raph's fingers at your neck, always checking your damned pulse. Words were at your lips, muscle memory echoing the vows that Raph had constantly forced upon you.

> _We are the first line of duty—unseen prevention._
> 
> _We are the final resort—the desperate intervention._
> 
> _The first and final armament—assassins in the night._
> 
> _Unknown but provoked—we bare victory and might._

You hadn't spoken those words in months. Half a year, actually. But they sat on your tongue, heavy and acidic like rotten fruit.

When you all finally arrived at the centre of the ship, it was no surprise that Raph's lounge was sealed shut with thick reinforcements, but this seemed to be little match for Kylo Ren. His left hand was held out once more, fingers clenching the air to move the doors with the Force. As the thick durasteel quaked, a hiss sighed from the doors, and at once, a noxious gas leaked into the hallway from the ceiling.

Anna immediately backed up, yelling for everyone to turn around. She scrambled back past the Troopers who had followed behind her, but they marched forward. Their helmets were meant for toxic environments and were well-equipped with thick filters. But Anna yelled at them again, commanding them to turn around. They didn't take her seriously.

They wouldn't live to make that error again.

A series of blood-curdling screams ripped from the Troopers who had stepped forward, and their blasters fell to the floor, hands leaping at their helmets and armour. The gas wasn't meant to poison. It was meant to corrode through the plastic of their armour. From a safe distance away, all you could do was watch in disgusted horror as the plastic was eaten away and melted by the gas, which then disintegrated their clothing and burnt their flesh. Thick boils and welts appeared on the Troopers' skin as they fell to the floor, and the air smelled of burning skin. They were still screaming, still trying to pull off their armour, pull at their skin, stop the burning.

The rest of the Troopers stepped back further, forming a tight circle around you, Ren, and Alma. Anna still stood to the side, groaning that they wouldn't listen to her, and as the gas stopped leaking from the vents in the ceiling, Tomas walked forward and shot the Troopers in the back of the head, silencing all of them.

The other Troopers surrounding Ren seemed shocked by this and immediately put up their blasters toward Tomas, but Ren held up a hand, beckoning them back to their original  mission . Taking a step past the Troopers, Ren lifted his hand to Tomas, jumping into the man's mind for a brief moment.

“An act of mercy,” Ren hummed, finding the answer to Tomas's actions. He had figured as much.

“It's better than dying a slow, painful death,” Tomas replied.

You couldn't tell if Ren was pleased with this or not, but he turned to the other Troopers and dismissed them. Reluctantly, the Troopers followed his new commands to gather the other assassins, giving them the option of fighting for Raph or Anna. And within a minute, there were only five of you left in the hallway: Anna and Tomas, Ren and Alma, and yourself.

The gas had finally dissipated, leaving an eerie yellow haze over the metal that smudged with your footprints as you moved forward. Anna still took caution, though, and made sure to wrap her scarf around her face. Tomas pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket to put over his nose, commenting that it was still noxious to breathe in, even if no longer in large doses. You pulled your own scarf tight over your nose and mouth, instantly feeling your hot, humid breath get trapped against your skin. The sensation of suffocation wrapped around you, but it was ignorable. What  _wasn't_ ignorable was who was on the other side of that door. Raph.

Once again, Ren used the Force to rip at the sliding doors, and Alma joined in as well until the reinforcements slid back into the walls. And within a few seconds, the door was fully opened, revealing Raph at the centre of his lounge, a blaster held out as he stood there, icy calm and unmoving.

That first second of stillness felt like an eternity. Raph stared forward, first to Ren who was menacing, front and centre, and then to you. His eyes narrowed, and he shot forward, his blaster beam caught in mid air only an inch from Kylo Ren's chest. The beam hovered, snapping and crackling as though it had been frozen in time, static and unmoving. Ren seemed rather unphased as he stepped past the blast and moved into the room.

Kylo Ren moved forward with his terrifying sabre held aloft. He trapped Raph with the Force, and each of Raph's weapons—blasters, knives, even a small bomb—were stripped from him to land at the sides of the room. Ren called for something to bind Raph's hands behind his back, and Alma tossed him a durasteel link rope from her belt. Shoving Raph forward so that he was forced to his knees before them, Ren secured the rope and stood before his captive

Stepping beside Ren, you looked down at Raph in both fear and amazement that he should be caught. It was undeniable that you were scared even though this was what you wanted, and you could feel your fingers trembling as you held your blaster at his head.

He glared back at you, his face unreadable. It wasn't fear that painted his features. Wasn't apprehension. Wasn't shock or anything else that you would expect. If anything, maybe it was disgust mixed with amusement. It almost reminded you of a face  _you_ would make—the type that you had  shown  when Kylo Ren had first caught you.

“You aren't scared,” you mentioned whilst looking down at him.

Raph slowly shook his head. “Not of you. You won't be the one to kill me.”  So he already accepted that this would be his end? That was surprising.

“How are you so sur e I won't kill you? I have a blaster at your head.”

“Because I've ingrained terror within you.”

“ But you don't own me any more,” you asserted. It was true that there was a terrible fear lodged in your heart, unmoving and paralysing, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

Raph seemed more displeased by your statement than about being captured by Kylo Ren. “No,” he said, voice kept low and dangerous. “I will  _always_ own you. And I will  _always_ control you.”

Ren groaned and gave a kick to Raph's rips, knocking him to his side. Raph hissed out a curse just as several Troopers entered the room, all of them with blasters held ready.

“I told you all to secure the other assassins!” Ren barked. “Or were you intent upon not listening--”

All at once, Ren's voice cut off, and searching behind the Troopers, you instantly knew why. General Hux had entered the room.

Hux stepped over the dead Troopers at the doorway and looked around, scanning the room with his hands held comfortably behind his back. The moment that he saw Raph on the floor, he smirked to himself and stepped beside you.

“I told you to stay put in the ship!” Ren growled, not needing this extra distraction.

Hux raised his hand as though to silence him. “I wanted to see this for myself.” He leaned forward, kneeling before Raph. The glare that Hux gave was a weapon all on its own—lethal and just as cold as what Raph was capable of making. “I wanted to look into the eyes of the man who would try to kill my lover.”

Raph almost spat out a laugh. “Your _lover_? So _that's_ how she has served the First Order? You made her your whore?”

Hux slapped Raph hard across the cheek and grit his teeth together as he watched Raph pick himself up off the floor and shake away the dazed look from his eyes.

“Such little respect you have for her,” Hux snarled. “She's not my  _whore_ . She's my  _queen_ .”

Of all the things that had been said over the past few minutes, it was  _this_ that finally shut up Raph. His mouth held slightly ajar as he looked at Hux like a new being—like something completely new and undiscovered in the galaxy. He couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that one of his possessions could be loved,  c ould be held so highly, so aloft. It was beyond his understanding.

And then there was you. The fear that had been continuously rolling through you seemed to disappear in only a second as you processed what Hux had just said.  _My queen_ . It made your heart soar, gave you power. In that moment, you truly did feel like a queen.

Hux stood and turned toward you without ever taking his eyes off of Raph. “This is your decision,” he said. “What do you want to have done with him?”

The tiniest curl of a smile met your lips. You knew  _exactly_ what you would like to have happen. “The same as he did to so many others over the years. Let's push him out of an airlock.”

From behind you, there was a bark of a laugh from Anna as she stepped forward beside you. “I agree.”

Silently, Tomas gave his own nod of approval and ripped Raph to his feet with Hux on the other side, both men gripping Raph's arms as their prisoner. A ring of Troopers surrounded them, and Anna began to lead the way out of the private lounge and into the hallways that still flashed red with lock down alarms.

They had barely moved at all when a comm came through to Hux from some of the Troopers still at the hangar. Their voices were hurried, sharp and alert as they detailed a final group of enemy assassins converging near the control rooms. The last of Raph's forces were beginning to bomb the hangar system controls, and Clees and Kelakh had escaped  with help from mutineers  but requested back up. Ren groaned from beside Hux and plucked the comm from the general's belt.

“We'll be there shortly,” he answered, his helmet's voice distor ter not hiding his annoyance. With a nod to Alma, he must have conveyed a full plan, because she ran ahead down the hall, quickly leaving sight. Ren turned to Hux and then stepped toward Raph, no doubt taking in the last sight of the man. “I would love to stay and see the life leave your eyes, but your worthless insects need  exterminating .” He then turned to you, and a tiny chuckle echoed from his helmet. “Enjoy yourself.”

“I will.”

And then Kylo Ren left down the hall after Alma, his lightsabre reignited and ready to kill the last of the assassins still obedient to their leader.

Raph was still silent as Tomas and Hux dragged him along, but every time that you looked behind you, he was glaring. The hatred that boiled through him at seeing you and Anna lead everyone to the airlocks was evident in each step he took, each deep breath that slowly hissed through his clenched teeth. And as you drew nearer, he only became more stoic, more slow, more enraged.

With just another minute before reaching the airlocks, you entered a double-wide hallway, and it was as you once again checked over your shoulder that everything fell to pieces.

You knew what was going to happen before you could even open your mouth to yell. The look in Raph's eyes alone told you what he was planning, but how could you have conveyed that to Hux? How could you have warned Tomas that Raph was  about to twist and bash the back of his head into Tomas's face, shattering the man's nose? By the time that the yell was out of your mouth, Raph had already kicked under Hux's legs, sending both of them flat on their backs to the ground, and in less than a second, Raph had swivelled his arms from behind his legs to the front of his body.

Blaster fire was in the air, but with so many bodies, it was difficult for the Troopers to aim and all too easy for Raph to dodge as he leapt forward. Anna managed to  step to the side, her eyes focused on Tomas as he bled on the floor, yelling as he grasped his face. But you could only see Raph, could only feel the spike of terror as he ran toward you and then wrapped his roped arms around your neck. He shoved you in front of him, holding you like a human shield.

“Do not move!” he yelled, mostly to Hux who had gotten back to his feet and looked ready to strangle him with his own hands. “Not a  _single movement_ from any of you.” Raph backed up with you still in front of him.

“And as for you,” he whispered into your ear, “Drop those blasters now.” You obeyed, not thinking for a single second to do otherwise, and the blasters fell to the floor with a clatter. Hux gritted his teeth together and raised a hand to call off the blaster fire from the Troopers, and the two men glared, each sending fire and ice toward one another.

Everything was quiet now. Too quiet. Even with all of the commotion—Tomas still on the ground with blood all over the front of him, Anna running over to try and stop the bleeding and get him away from everything because he was clearly concussed, the Troopers shifting their weight as they tried to figure out what to do—there seemed to be no noise. All you could hear was your own heart pounding in your ears.

Raph continued to walk backwards with you in a choke hold before him, and nervous nausea quaked within you. If he hadn't been holding on so tight, you would have vomited on the floor. But his hands were on your neck, squeezing as he forced you to walk with him. You could feel him against your back, feel his breath against your neck, feel the sweat rolling in beads down your face. This terror, this loathing seemed unreal. It was stimulation overload born of fear that made you feel paralysed. It took all of your strength to lock eyes with Hux from several paces away.

He must have felt the same thing as you—the same fear, the same hatred. But as you locked eyes, Hux gave the slightest of nods. It wasn't quite permission. Not quite encouragement. But whatever it was, it triggered something within you that had never been there before. It was the affirmation that you were strong. Stronger than anyone here.

It was all you needed to take the next step and fight Raph.

All of those years that you had spent never laying a finger on him were pushed aside. This was do or die. And swallowing everything that told you to stay still, you twisted your leg behind his to knock both of you to the floor.

You didn't think but started pounding instead. It was an all out fight of flying fists, of slamming one another against the metal walls as you went for the kill. Like a lioness against a hyena, you launched each attack with a ferociousness that would have made even Kylo Ren take a step back.

You punched at Raph's eyes and could feel your knuckles crack, and he tugged at your hair to slam you against a door frame. All you could see was bright red, and you didn't know if it was blood in your eyes or the anger that kept you punching and clawing at him.

The Troopers who had surrounded you were still trying to figure out what to do. Should they try to shoot? No, that would be too dangerous. With how quickly the two of you were beating the shit out of each other, their blaster fire was too likely to kill  _both_ of you rather than just Raph. And besides, this was  _personal_ . This was a battle that had to be fought with hands rather than blaster plasma.

As both you and Raph rolled onto the ground, he reached for your vibroblade that was still strapped to your thigh, but before he could turn it on, you ripped it from his hand s , sending it spinning across the floor. It slid until hitting against the toe of Hux's boot, and without a moment of hesitation, he picked it up. Heavy and hot in his hand,  Hux switched it on to feel the deep vibrations that rattled the bones in his fingers and wrist. It was a powerful thing, and he didn't have to think about what to do with it.

General Hux's eyes followed the trail of blood to where Raph was on top of you. The man's hands were at your neck, your own clawing against his face, and Hux knew that it was now or never. Clenching the blade as tight as he could, Hux ran forward and plunged the knife directly into Raph's back.

You didn't know exactly what happened since your vision was confined to Raph's scratched and bloody face, but his sharp gasp told you that  _something_ had happened. The game had changed. Raph had stopped moving, and his hands that were fixed on your neck loosened ever so slightly from their death grip. Just over his shoulder, you saw Hux, the knife handle still in his hand but blade coursing deep within Raph's back.

As fast as you could, you reached for Hux's hands, and with both of your strength, ripped the blade free. Hux let go, and the blade was yours once more. Raph let go of your throat and reached  with his bound hands  for the vibrating blade, but there was too little time. His hand s were only half way to the blade when you swung it to the side and sliced deep from his collarbone to his throat.

A shower of blood poured forth directly overhead, and you gave a hard kick to send Raph to the floor beside you. He collapsed onto his back, his hands now reaching for his own neck as  he bled onto the floor. A sickening gurgle was spewing from his throat as the blood rolled down his trachea, filling his lungs so that his breathing was a series of sputters that sent blood spraying into the air before him.

Weak and shaky, you were helped to your feet by Hux, and you looked down at Raph as he twitched and turned a ghastly shade of purple and white. It was as he looked up at you with scared eyes that you knew this was over. It was all finished. His face was almost entirely white when you finally spoke.

“I was right.” Your voice trembled, but you weren't scared any more. How could you be when he stared up at you with so much fear?

“Yeah... I was right,” you repeated. “You don't own me any more.”

And with the passing of only seconds, Raph's grip fell slack against his throat, and he stared up at you with the cold eyes of the dead.

* * *

 

 **A/** **N:** Hey guys. It's been a long, long while. Yikes. Sorry that it took so long for me to update. For those of you who follow my personal blog on tumblr, you know that life got busy. Like, really busy. Ramadan and caregiving took all my energy, and then on the last day of my caregiving job, I found out that my grandmother died. So I spent that last week of Ramadan kind of just floating through, feeling stressed with pain flare-ups and feeling bad for my mourning family members and trying to figure out what on earth I'm doing with my life. It was a relief to have Eid and be able to actually eat and drink like a normal person; God, I missed iced coffee. There's something so therapeutic about going to my favourite coffee shop and staring out of the window as life passes by. I needed that and have been back to said coffee shop nearly every day since.

Anyway, I finally got to a point a few days ago where I could start writing again, and that's when PokemonGo came out, so obviously, not as much writing has been happening as a result. But I've finally started to park my ass for a few hours per day to finish this beast of a chapter, and I'm happy to write again. I just hope that I don't go this long between updates again, because I really did feel bad about it. Not just because I was making all of you wait for so long, but because I missed that connection with my characters; they're like my violent little children that I need to nurture.

Kinda like my Pokemon. But I digress.

In other notes, i t turns out that you can actually look up the coordinates of different planets and locations using an heliocentric ecliptic rectangular vector (x,y,z  3D plane, basically ). The coordinates used by Breeah  in this chapter  happen to also be Pluto's exact location in December 2008. The more you know.


	20. The Supreme Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is with Raph's death that you find one kind of freedom, and it is with the meeting of Snoke that you lose it again.

 

**Chapter Playlist:** [ Youtube ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eT6dLJd3rYk&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhaV2c5KFJNUVDu8hqrHoSkt)

* * *

 

When a planet implodes upon itself, it is not usually a show of explosions, popping brilliantly against the dark backdrop of space, all bright oranges and yellows as the planet burns. Rather, the implosion is marked by dust, by flying rock that goes unseen in every direction before being caught in an orbit. These rocks—chunks of a planet that was once full of life—become their own tombstones as they float endlessly around their star. In time, they become a graveyard, haunted by ghosts, by ships that  _wished_ they were ghosts.

It was here that Raph met his final resting place. A graveyard of rock.

There was no one left on board who felt any pity seeing his corpse get sucked through the airlock to be placed in orbit, frozen body shattering upon the first rock it hit. No. No pity for this dead man. Just a strange silence that felt a little too unreal.

You had been sitting cross-legged on the floor before the airlock for nearly an hour, still watching the debris float by. There was no longer any sign of Raph, and you were fairly certain there never would be; he was lost to space. This moment should have felt very final. It should have felt triumphant to still have his blood on your hands and splattered over your face. There should have been a celebration on board. But if there  _was_ one, you didn't hear it. Not from where you sat.

After being sure that your broken knuckles were treated, General Hux had let you have your peace for a while, which you had needed. You needed this silence. You needed to be alone for at least a few minutes as you processed what had happened. Not only had you fought back against Raph, but between you and Hux, you had killed him. What a turn of events. Never in your life could you have imagined doing such a thing to the person whom you feared the most. And yet, it was precisely what you had done.

Anna sat down beside you after having left immediately after Raph's departure into space. She was covered in blood as well, though it hadn't been from trying to kill a man.

“How's Tomas?” you asked, still watching the rocks.

“Troopers' are takin' care of him,” she answered. “His nose looks fuckin' awful, but they got a bone knitter and somethin' to straighten out the cartilage. We're just lucky we ain't dead, huh?”

You couldn't agree more. It still seemed rather implausible, actually, that the only fatalities had been a handful of Troopers. Anyone who had been injured was on their way to recovery. Or at least everyone who had been  _physically_ injured was healing; there was still a long road for everyone who had been owned by Raph and was trying to understand the concept of freedom.

“The ship's mine now,” Anna mentioned as she stood up and stretched her arms over her head with a wince. “It'll take a lot of fixin' after y'all's TIE-fighters blasted it, but still, it's mine. I'll probably make Tomas and Breeah my co-captains if they'll stay.”

“I'm sure they will.”

Anna shrugged. “I wouldn't blame anyone for leavin'. I got a quarter of Raph's crew, but I might end up on my own here. You wouldn't think of joinin' my crew, eh?”

You shook your head, grinning a bit. “Nah. I think I've found my place in the First Order.”

“Traitor,” she joked, punching your arm and then helping you to your feet.  “I guess I should name the ship now...” Anna stared down at the floor and scuffed her toe against the plate metal. Raph had always refused to name his ship for fear of it becoming easier to track, but there was no longer any reason for all of that fear. No reason to hide.

“Did you have anything in mind?” you asked.

Anna cracked a smile but still wouldn't look you in the eye. “You're gonna think it's corny, but... yeah. I wanna call it the _Independence_.” She finally looked up at you, smiling awkwardly. You could feel your face match her expression—something caught between joy and amusement and uncertainty.

“I... I like it,” you finally commented after a moment. “I think it's fitting.”

Something about your approval strengthened Anna, and she clasped her hand with yours for a moment. You could feel a bond that had been there for years, even when you had fought or thought of yourselves as less than human because of Raph's treatment. But at that moment, you both stood there, together and alive and free.

“Then that's it,” Anna affirmed. “It'll be the _Independence_.”

* * *

 

It seemed surprising that Kylo Ren was taking his time with leaving Raph's ship. A few hours dragged on as the Troopers tended to any wounded and Anna and Hux discussed leadership roles and cemented an alliance. After everything had been settled and the TIE-fighters had left, but Ren's ship was still docked in the hangar, you began to wonder what exactly was keeping you all there.

But as was the case with most mysteries of the First Order, you only needed to be patient to receive an answer.

Your first clue came when you noticed a new anxiety building on board Ren's ship among the knights. Alma had been attempting to meditate on a chair in the ship's lounge but was doing far more cursing under her breath as she flexed her fingers in and out of fists. And then Clees and Kelakh were both silent but with a flighty energy to them that you had never witnessed before. Clees's large boots were tapping against the floor, his arms crossed over his chest a bit too tightly, and Kelakh seemed to have his eyes a little too open as he watched each Trooper that went past or every light flash on the nearby control panels.

And then there was Ren. He was silent, unmoving as he leaned against the wall with eyes squeezed shut. Like a storm on the horizon, he felt far removed from everyone else but dangerous enough to make you still seek shelter. In time, you wandered out of the lounge and its heavy air of nerves to seek Hux, who had been in the ship's small conference room to send reports and speak over hologram with some captains. You slunk into a chair beside him just as he was finishing a comm and waited for him to jot down some notes on a datapad before speaking.

“Do you know why the knights are--”

Before you could ask your question, General Hux's comm alarm sounded off, and he groaned whilst holding up a hand to stop you.

The voice on the other end of the comm was harsh, crisp in its accented pronunciation. It was a voice you had heard before in person more times than you could count. Bazine Netal.

“Is it true?” There was no greeting from her.

Hux rolled his eyes, glad that she couldn't see him. “Is _what_ true, Netal?”

“You have killed Raph Niehaus?”

Stars, word travelled fast! “Yes. He is dead.”

There was a moment of silence from Netal as she gathered her thoughts, but you could tell in those few seconds that she wasn't pleased. “I won't deny he was an intolerable bastard, but I am now without one of my primary employers. How do you plan to remedy this?”

“I wasn't aware that it was my problem,” Hux growled.

“I will _make it_ your problem.”

“Are you threatening me over lost income?” he asked, no longer trying to keep any control to his voice.

Her reply was blunt. “Yes.”

Hux groaned, rubbing at his temples. He had been stressed enough without now having Bazine Netal at his throat. She must have known how much this would get under his skin, because Netal continued on.

“If you seek my services, they will now be increased in price. Remember that.” And then the comm clicked as Bazine abruptly hung up.

You both sat there for a moment, neither one feeling up to talking. Hux had shut his eyes and was sliding his fingers through his hair until his forehead could rest in his palm as he thought through the day. Taking a chance with your luck, you reached out, letting your hand squeeze at his shoulder. He gave only the slightest indication of your touch being appreciated, but it was enough.

“What all's going on?” you finally asked. “The knights are stressing me out.”

Hux nodded whilst finally opening his eyes. “Yes. Well, they have reason for nervousness; we've been called to the Supreme Leader's citadel.”

You could feel your eyebrows slowly knit together as you tried to understand why exactly that would be means for their behaviour. It wasn't as though you hadn't heard fearful rumours of Supreme Leader Snoke over the past few months. You had heard that he was the cruel leader of the First Order who lurked behind shadows—that whatever authority was held by Kylo Ren and General Hux was only a proxy for the terrific power of Snoke. You had never seen the man, never heard him speak, and had been forbidden by Alma of ever talking about him, but you knew that he was someone taken seriously. And you knew that the knights both respected and feared him.

“ _You_ aren't nervous?” you asked.

Hux finally pulled his head from his hands and turned toward you, studying your face for a moment. There was a twitch of his light eyes, but he otherwise appeared accepting of the visit.

“The Supreme Leader is an honourable man, and I know my place when in his presence,” Hux explained. “The Knights give their complete allegiance to him, as I do, but they are held to a far different standard than myself. It's stricter. More physical. More... _disposable_.”

You didn't know how much you believed that. Each of the knights were powerful; they were rarities in the universe with their skills in the Force and fighting. It seemed a waste that Snoke would view them as being disposable—that he could toss them aside at will.

“And you _aren't_ disposable in comparison?”

Hux finally looked irritated and didn't answer. Instead, he shuffled through a stack of reports and datapads, slightly slamming them against the table. “You will be meeting with the Supreme Leader,” he mentioned after a while.

“Really now?” You didn't feel too scared even though you probably should have. Something about having just killed the most dangerous man in your life probably had something to do with it. Raph's death would colour your outlook on the world for a while. “And what should I expect?”

“To not speak if you can help it.”

“What? You don't trust me to not say something stupid in front of him? I _do_ know how to be serious when the situation calls for it.”

Hux shook his head. “No. You have already proven yourself when it matters. But to see the Supereme Leader in person can be a shocking thing. Protect yourself by keeping quiet. Stay a step behind me or Ren, and do not make eye contact with him.”

“Why not?”

The exasperated expression on Hux's face told you that he didn't want to answer, and yet, he wasn't surprised. Not at all, actually. Your curiosity was a prickle under his skin, constantly wriggling and trying to come to the surface. Hux weighed the words that circled his mind, trying to decide how much to tell you. What information was necessary? What would keep you safest? What would satiate that thirst for more—more knowledge, more understanding—that seemed to drive you forward?

“The more that you give of yourself to Snoke, the less of yourself that will remain in your control. Does that suffice?”

You gave a little nod but must have looked like it wasn't _quite_ enough information. Hux sighed and reached forward to hold the side of your face with his hand. Something was battling inside of him, but he wasn't going to share it. This was his to fight. His to win or lose so long as you stayed safe.

He spoke, his voice losing its clipped, accented nature to be softer. And even though it was a less threatening way to speak—more sincere and caring—it sent a chill straight through you.

“Don't lose any of yourself. Not to anyone,” he said. “You're too strong to not be free.”

* * *

 

Freedom was a tricky subject that was weighing far too heavily on your mind since having killed Raph. What did it mean to be free when you had been a slave for the majority of your life? Was freedom the lack of a master? Was it the will to move and act as you pleased? Or was freedom simply a word that was tossed around with varying levels of subjective capacity? You didn't really know, but as Kylo Ren's ship neared the Outer Territories where Snoke's citadel was hidden away, you knew that you didn't really _feel_ free. Not yet at least. Not with the constricting anxiety that still held in the air from the knights.

It had taken two days to travel to the deep, sapphire blue planet that held Snoke's residence, and for not a single second did the tension on board lighten. If anything, their anxiousness had only increased, and by the time that the ship landed on an icy hangar in the dead of night, you were all too ready to get away from them.

Shivering in the wind that whipped your hair into your face and sent chills across your skin, you made your way across the open-air hangar beside Hux as the knights prepared themselves. It was a long walk, desolate and empty save for the ceiling of millions of stars in the black night. Scant snow was on the ground, dry and blowing in the wind in swirls around your feet. It was a cold place, both in nature and spirit, but you supposed that it was fitting for such a person as secretive and powerful as Snoke.

Hux wrapped an arm around you, drawing you close to his side so that you could keep warm as the citadel drew nearer. In the moon and starlight, the rounded peaks of the citadel reflected an eerie white against the black night. Minarets stuck out at intervals around the massive building, each with a firelight within, and when the wind would momentarily die down, you could hear the snapping and crackling of those fires. Toward the ground, the marble slopes of the buildings met with secured doorways to the outside and then open air hallways leading to different areas of the citadel. It was large enough to be its own city but still enough to be a graveyard.

Even inside, there was little you could do to warm yourself. Hux had given you his coat, but you were still trembling in the hallways as the wind swept through them. And you were surprised by just how _dark_ everything was. For even though the citadel's materials were all of white stone, it was scarcely lit but by fire. Not a single light appeared except for torches and fire pits stationed at intervals, and you wondered if the shadows they cast and the crackling was purposeful—if this was Snoke's way of intimidating anyone who dared to enter his most private quarters.

Hux led the way inside, twisting through various halls, across open patios that had been dusted with snow, and then into an underground cavern that was finally out of the wind. The deeper the stairs climbed beneath the citadel, the warmer it became until you could feel your fingers again and stop feeling the ice cleave through your lungs.

“How much further?” you whispered. The only other sounds were of your footsteps echoing as the stairs plateaued and then the soft dripping of water from the dark ceiling.

“Soon,” Hux answered. His grip around your waist momentarily tightened.

“Are you sure that Snoke--”

“--The Supreme Leader,” Hux corrected.

You rolled your eyes. “Are you sure he'll be awake?”

It took Hux a moment to reply. “He never sleeps.”

You couldn't tell if he was being metaphorical because of the intensity in his eyes. Hux looked straight forward down the hall and into the dark. Just as the darkness of the giant hall seemed to be all encompassing, a light began to shine from ahead. Soft and flickering, it was a single torch light against the wall, looking alone and primitive in such a large place. Honestly, Snoke needed to invest in some electrical lighting, but you wouldn't be the one to say it.

It was here that Hux stopped and drew you before him. His gloved hands were at the sides of your face, his thumbs rubbing tiny circles over your cheeks. Once stopped, you could hear another set of footsteps coming from the direction where you had just come, and it only took another minute before Kylo Ren came to join both of you.

All of this time, you hadn't felt frightened by Snoke's citadel. Maybe a bit intimidated. Maybe a bit too cold. Maybe a little nervous just because of everyone else's energy. But it wasn't until seeing Kylo Ren join you with beads of sweat gathering at his temples and his face looking a deadly shade of pale that you started to feel something a little more. Someone as powerful as him shouldn't have been so scared.

Ren must have heard your thoughts or simply knew by the way that your posture straightened with wide, alert eyes that something had changed—that fear had started to crawl into you.

“You aren't one of the Knights,” Ren said to you as he led the way toward a massive door. “So you face no punishments here. Be thankful for that.”

“What are _you_ being punished for?” you asked. It wasn't as though Kylo Ren had fucked up any missions lately.

He grimaced, hands stretched forward as the door slid silently into the wall. “For my thoughts.”

At first, the room that had opened seemed to be another world of soft blues and greys as the cavern was illuminated from above by moonlight caught in mirrors. The light settled upon the surroundings—stark, simple furniture; a smoldering fire in the centre of the room that sent tendrils of smoke into the air; shallow pools of water along the edges of the room that looked like black mirrors. And on a throne-like seat beneath a beam of moonlight sat the Supreme Leader Snoke, his body withered and decrepit as he sat with eyes closed.

Kylo Ren stepped forward and dropped to his knees before Snoke like a knight before his king. Without opening his eyes, Snoke spoke, a low, rumbling bass of a sound that didn't seem to match the horrid body from which it came.

“You could have arrived three hours earlier,” Snoke scolded. “The fear wreaks from you.”

Ren swallowed a nervous lump in his throat but looked up at his master just as Snoke opened his eyes. “My apologies.”

“Perhaps you would have no need of fear—of punishment—if you did as I demand and rid your mind of the Light.”

“I'm... _trying_.” The words didn't want to leave Ren's mouth and sounded more like acid than language.

“Not hard enough.” Snoke shifted on his throne and looked further into the room to see both Hux and yourself in the doorway. “But we will discuss this with the rest of the Knights more formally. For now, it is high time I meet your assassin.”

You hadn't expected to be noticed so quickly and stood stalk still for a moment before Hux pushed gently on your back to send you forward beside Ren. Remembering what Hux had warned, you didn't look into Snoke's eyes but caught sight of them in your periphery—large and round, heavily lidded as they inspected every inch of you. It brought back old memories of standing at slave markets as someone waited to purchase you, and you couldn't help but despise the feeling.

He took his time looking over you before leaning back into his throne. The moment that his back hit the chair, you could feel him barge inside of your mind. It was far different from Ren who merely slipped into your thoughts, light as a feather and silent as he observed. And different from Salim who tore through your thoughts like a warrior decimating his enemies. This was controlled and precise, effortless and lethal. All at once, his consciousness was evaluating your own, breaking through doors that you hadn't even known were there, stealing and grabbing information that had long been kept hidden. It was quick, viscous, and when he withdrew from your mind, you felt gutted and empty. There wasn't any pain to be felt; everything had been too quick for that. But it was as though he had entirely drained your being in those few seconds.

A look of horror had spread across your face, and on instinct, you glanced up to lock eyes with him. It had been entirely accidental, but you immediately regretted having done so as soon as you were able to take in his face and all of its deep wrinkles and scars. He looked more like a skeleton than a man, more animistic than anyone you had ever seen. Frowning, Snoke broke eye contact with you and turned to Hux.

“She has proven herself to be worthy thus far.” It wasn't a question, simply a statement of fact.

“Yes, Supreme Leader. She has been invaluable,” Hux praised.

Snoke nodded once and brought his hands together, fingertips tapping lightly against one another. “You would trust her with your very life, would you not, General?”

Hux didn't skip a beat. “Yes.”

Something about this amused Snoke but in a sick, sarcastic way. He let out the lightest chuckle beneath his breath. “To think, General, that you would start making decisions based on feeling rather than intellect.” His eyes flickered to you. “That makes you stronger than you know.”

You swallowed nervously, not sure if you should open your mouth to respond. The experience was so foreign; you didn't know how to act.

Snoke continued on, though. “You slayed your former master, which places you undeniably in Ren's possession and thus my own. How can I be certain that you will not do the same to us?”

Hux took a step forward, his arm reflexively going in front of your body as though he meant to protect you from such an accusation. “Supreme Leader, I assure you--”

“Did I ask you?” Snoke's voice was sharp, and he stood, just slightly taller than you. His movements were fluid, serpent-like rather than jolting with age. It was a dissonance that unsettled all three of you before him.

With the lightest touch against Hux's hand, you lowered his arm so that you could stand directly before Snoke. You didn't trust him, and it was obvious that he didn't trust you, but it occurred to you that a man like this trusted _no one_. There was no winning favours against such a person nor winning of trust, and he wouldn't have been able to get to this stage of his life—to this level of power—by trusting those around him.

Snoke was drilling holes into you with his eyes alone. It was the same kind of look that slave masters held—the all knowing look of ownership as they stared down at a lesser being in their control.

You wanted to rip his eyes from their sockets.

“Freedom is a false premise,” Snoke sighed, obviously understanding what was going through your mind. “Owned by previous masters, owned by Kylo Ren, owned by me. You look for straight lines instead of circles. Your future is cyclical.”

And then he pushed past you with Kylo Ren following at his heels like a lost sheep. Standing before the embers of the fire in the centre of the cavern, Snoke closed his eyes and let the orange light glow against his dark robes. His back was turned to you, but you had a feeling that he could still see your every movement.

A full minute passed in silence before he finally spoke, “Assassins have their purpose, I suppose. Use her as you will, General, but don't forget to whom she belongs.”

You hated hearing that. Hadn't you just claimed your independence from Raph? And here you were being reminded once again that the freedom you had obtained meant nothing. It had never existed. It never would. It left a sour taste in your mouth, and you felt your stomach make a flip. Your hand reached for Hux's, searching desperately for his fingers to be tangled with your own. He was not stronger than you and couldn't protect you, but at that moment, you wanted to know that he would still be there. That at least you had _someone_ by your side as this terrifying man laid claim to you.

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Hux replied, voice hardly audible.

“You are dismissed. Both of you.” And then Snoke's attention turned toward Ren, whose eyes had lingered on both of you as though pleading not to leave. He looked far younger, like a child who was watching his parents abandon him. And you got the feeling ever so briefly that that was _precisely_ what had once happened to him. But before you could make any indication that you hoped for the best for him, Hux had turned you around, ushering you as quickly as possible from Snoke's lair. With the ripple of Hux's great coat upon your shoulders and his arm at your back, Ren was turned from your sight.

And it was then that you wondered if any of you were truly free.

* * *

 

 **A/N:** Hi, guys! Some things were discussed on my tumblr about updates that I would like to share here for those who didn't see or who are only reading this on Ao3. Basically, I would like to start writing shorter chapters again. Lately (especially with this fic and the end of Starkiller Science), I have written extremely long chapters, and that is becoming more difficult for me. They are exhausting to edit, take far too long to write which means fewer updates that get further spread out, and are difficult to read. I know that, as a reader, I don't like chapters that are more than 4-5k words long. Shorter chapters give me a chance to breathe and think about what I've read and also allow me to read in short spurts throughout the day rather than in long, drawn out sessions that I inevitably get distracted from and forget about completely. So I would like to start aiming for somewhere around 3k words again for chapters. I don't know how attainable this is since I am long-winded and don't know how to tell a short story, but I hope that it will be more manageable for me as a writer and you as a reader.

In other news, I started my PhD in cognitive neuroscience this past Monday, and it's super exciting but also kind of terrifying. I don't really know what I'm doing, but all I can do is hope for the best and work hard. I don't know how my new university and classes and research will effect my writing. If it's anything like it was with my master's degree, I'll actually write more during procrastination sessions, but who really knows? Anyway, for all of you who are starting new school semesters in the upcoming weeks, I wish you the best of luck. And remember that I am here if you ever have questions about college/uni or homework or whatever. Hit up my tumblr inbox or message me or whatever any time.


	21. The Citadel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several of the knights find themselves under the punishment of Supreme Leader Snoke, leaving them weak and frightened as they recover. In the meantime, Alma takes you under her wing for further training and an explanation of the complex dynamics of the Knights of Ren. But no amount of her explanations will teach you as much as overhearing a dangerous conversation.

**Chapter Playlist:** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_QUq72fla3o&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhatJy-7b5K6x9XONpx6g_jY)

Alma held a metal rod in her swollen, aching hands, ready to hit you once again if you didn't do _precisely_ as she commanded.

“Step left.”

You obeyed, holding your own metal rod. It was light, like aluminium but far colder—cold enough that you wore gloves as you sparred with Alma. She, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying the cold. It brought only minimal relief to her joints that were flaring a bright red, but it was at least _something_. She watched with thin, dark eyes as you stepped in a straight line and moved the metal rod into a defensive position.

“Good,” she whispered. “Now step forward and attack.”

You nodded, slightly sure that you were about to get your ass kicked as usual. Jumping forward, you struck with the rod, letting it hit against Alma's. A hollow ring vibrated through the air as she blocked and then took a few short steps toward you to hit hard against your thigh. With a kick, you wrapped your ankle around the cold metal, hopping on one leg as you regained your balance. She made no indication of the metal rod being stuck in the air and instead dropped it so that she could wrap her skinny arm around your neck and bring you to the ground in one swift motion.

The wind was knocked from your lungs as your cheek was pressed against the cold, hard marble of Snoke's citadel.

“How did you ever survive as an assassin?” she asked whilst releasing you from her death grip.

You rubbed at your face, tasting blood where your teeth had bitten into your inner cheek. “Well, usually my targets weren't Force sensitive. And usually I could just shoot them with a blaster, which, ya know, makes things easier.”

Alma seemed to shrug off your excuse as she stood up and flexed her fingers. “You will not always have the benefit of such a weapon.”

It seemed like less of a warning and more of a certainty.

“I know. I've been left with my own two hands before, and it'll happen again.”

You picked up both of the metal rods that were on the ground and swung them in slow circles, one in each hand. Alma had been training with you all morning as Hux and Kylo Ren met with Snoke. Apparently, Ren was in trouble for who knew what, and Hux was to be his babysitter. Or at least that's what you had gathered over a series of clipped conversations earlier in the morning. And since you had been excluded from the meetings with Snoke, you had paired up with Alma. Usually, you would have been fine with wandering on your own, but Snoke's citadel was not familiar, not safe. It was too cold and dangerous, and the last thing you wanted to do was get lost and freeze to death amid all the dimly-lit marble. Besides, you had been not-so-subtly warned by Kylo Ren not to stray, and you trusted him without having to ask for details.

And so you had found yourself under Alma's supervision, sparring for hours even though she could hardly move her hands. She looked exhausted but refused to rest. Stubborn. Just like Ren.

“How about we get something to eat?” you urged, hoping she would agree and stop looking like she was in so much pain.

Alma's thin eyebrows drew together as she gave you a glare. Her mind was within your own for just a second, and she groaned. “I will not be babied,” she mumbled whilst grabbing both of the metal rods from your hands.

You rolled your eyes and followed her across the training room and then out into the hallway.

Even during the day, this planet seemed dark, barely illuminated but by a dim sun on the horizon. The wind and snow that whipped into the hallways kept the air crisp, burning through your lungs with each breath. It was a miserable place, and you couldn't imagine staying there for more than a few days. Shockingly, you had learned that knights Regine and Salim had been on the planet for several _months_ , and you wondered how they hadn't gone completely insane.

Alma walked through the halls, drawing her black knight's cloak tight around her and letting the hood hide her face. Meanwhile, you were still borrowing Hux's over-sized coat—something that he had insisted upon and you hadn't particularly minded. Aside from keeping you warm, it smelled like him, giving you a subtle reminder throughout the day that you were more than just his bodyguard but was... _How had he put it again?_ _His Queen?_ Yes, that's what he had said. You couldn't help but grin as you flipped the collar of the coat so that it blocked the wind from chapping your cheeks.

 _Queen_.

You didn't ask for power. Didn't ask for any lofty positions. Hell, you hadn't even asked to mean anything to him, but knowing that you did was marvellous.

Every now and then, you could feel Alma skim over your mind, glossing over your thoughts like a skimmer gliding over the surface of water, collecting only the slightest of debris. It was the same kind of invasion that Ren would do—light, hardly noticeable, more of a way to keep tabs of you rather than to invade your personal space. It wasn't the same as what Salim or Snoke would do when given the opportunity.

“You guys are all so different from each other,” you commented as Alma turned toward the guest hallway where you all had been staying. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing as you elaborated. “I mean, you and Ren are pretty similar. But then there's Kelakh and Clees who kind of do their own thing even thought they're knights. I always forget that they're not Force sensitive like the rest of you guys. And then Graem...” You let out a groan. “He's just an arse. But like, a different kind of arse from Salim and Regine who are...”

“Dangerous.” Alma filled in the words for you.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Like, all of you are dangerous. Ren is reckless. Graem is careless. But they're... I dunno. There's something different about those two that, ugh, just puts me on edge.”

Regine and Graem had passed you earlier in the morning, both looking particularly lethal as their black-clad forms stood so stark from the white surroundings. Neither had looked in your direction, instead only speaking with Ren, but the mere sight of them had sent a shiver up your spine, as though they had crawled into your bloodstream to tear at your veins and latch into your nervous system like parasites.

Alma entered a room that she and Ren were sharing and motioned for you to grab some dishes that were still dirty from breakfast, and you started to help her with the meal. She reached for one of the knives to cut into some bread and dropped it onto the table, cursing under her breath. You frowned, not quite knowing if you should grab it from her and risk her stabbing you. Instead, you washed the dishes and watched as she tried again to grip the knife and slowly cut through the bread as though it was the most difficult thing she had ever done.

“Salim was a Storm Trooper,” she said, trying to pull your attention away from how much her body was failing her. “Captain Phasma noticed that he was Force sensitive and sent him to Ren to train. It did not take long for Salim to become infatuated with Snoke; the man was born to become a knight.”

“What about Regine? Who found out that _she_ was Force sensitive?”

“Her father—King Clovis. He apparently promised her to Snoke shortly after, and she has been in training for years.”

This was all good and interesting, but a burning question was on your tongue. “And what brought _you_ to work for Snoke?”

Alma bit at her lower lip. “Ren.”

You weren't even surprised and nodded, handing Alma the clean but dripping plates for her to set the food upon. “How did Ren find you in the first place?”

Alma paused, her hands lingering above the plates for just a moment. “A similar situation as your own and the General.” And then she made a motion with her hands that signified that the conversation was over. With a flick of her wrist, Alma sent a plate hurdling through the air to land in your hands, the bread nearly sliding off the plate as you caught it. Dropping into a chair to pick at her bread, Alma refused to look over at you and was silent as she ate, leaving you with more questions that were most likely not going to get answered.

* * *

 

Night drew darker than before as one of the moons over the citadel became a sharp crescent, emitting so little light that it may as well have been only the pin prick of a star in the sky. Hux had fallen asleep immediately after crawling into bed. Something about this place made him more confident, more powerful, and it had taken nothing for him to ease into sleep beside you, an arm holding onto your waist as he tucked his face into your hair. You lied awake, feeling the opposite of his confidence. It wasn't as though you felt as drained as the knights, half of whom had received punishments from Snoke over the past few days, but you still felt... _off_. You felt like a prisoner, and by this point in your life, you were ready to rid yourself of such a feeling.

You rolled over in the bed, feeling a chill wherever your or Hux's body heat hadn't warmed the sheets. Face to face with Hux, you pulled the blankets tighter over both of you, and he let out a long sigh.

“You're still awake,” he whispered.

“Yeah.”

He lifted his hand, slow and lazy, so that he could push some of the hair from your face and cradle your cheek with his hand.

“Why?” he asked.

You gave a shrug that he couldn't see. “I don't like being here.”

“We leave in the morning,” he replied without opening his eyes. His fingers tangled into your hair as he tilted his chin forward to kiss at your forehead. Your mind lingered on that kiss, still feeling the warmth of his lips above your brow even after he had pulled away. The comfort didn't seem to last long enough.

He was back asleep in no time at all, and your mind was just as awake as before, running in tight circles around thoughts that went nowhere. _'Brains made of broken strings.'_ It was something Breeah had once said when she couldn't concentrate on her computer monitor but instead had to wiggle in her seat until she could make coherent thoughts. You could identify with that pretty strongly right now.

Slipping out of bed, you quietly stalked across the frozen room and pulled on your boots and Hux's coat, and once in the hallway, you wrapped your black scarf around your face until only a slit for your eyes was visible. There was no comfort in being out of the room or in the dark, marble hallways that smelled of wood smoke and snow, but you needed to stretch and walk and run until your body was finally so tired that maybe, _just maybe_ , your mind could be overpowered by sleep.

Breaking into a power walk and then a jog, you made your way around the citadel in repeating laps, trying your damnedest to finally feel tired. It was after a few laps around the curved hallways that circled a great hall when you started to hear the echoing voices of others. Slowing down, you crammed yourself between a massive column and the wall, listening intently as the voices got closer, harsher.

Regine stomped her way from the great hall and into one of the hallways with Ren at her heals. Neither looked at all pleased with one another, but where Regine was merely frustrated, Ren appeared strangely weak and yet _furious_. His hands were balled, constantly reaching for his lightsabre but then thinking better of it and punching along his side instead. He cringed with her every word in his direction.

“You have no loyalties!” she hissed, pulling her long, skinny fingers over her forehead to massage the wrinkles that would dare to show in her beautiful face. “None at all.”

Ren let out a growl, sounding more animal than human. “I never pledged loyalty to your _father_. Only to Snoke,” he hissed, trying—and failing—to keep his voice down.

Behind Ren was Salim, needlessly helmeted as he silently observed Regine and Ren argue with one another. His arms were crossed over his chest, fingers tapping in mild irritation. You could feel your heart beat faster against your chest at the sight of him, and you made sure that you were completely hidden behind the column.

Regine had turned around to Ren, a fist on her hip and her other hand pointing toward his scowling face. “My father has been nothing but loyal to Snoke _and_ the First Order, and yet you refuse to listen to him--”

“--Perhaps you now understand why I do not appreciate your insolence toward me when you only obey _Snoke's_ orders,” Ren interrupted. He swatted her accusatory finger away from his face. “I didn't earn this position of leadership within the Knights only for you to disregard me!”

Rolling her eyes, Regine stepped away from him with a groan. Salim followed alongside her, and Regine's dark eyes flickered toward him as they carried on a silent conversation.

Salim spoke aloud, finally turning toward Ren. “The Supreme Leader is the only one towards whom we should show allegiance--”

“--Thank you!” Ren yelled. “Clovis deserves _nothing_.”

But Salim wasn't finished as he waved away Ren's gratitude. “And neither do you, _Ben_.”

For a split second, you thought that Salim had mispronounced Ren's name, but the immediate electricity that ran through the air said otherwise. Kylo Ren's face had fallen out of mere anger and into something unreadable. Something that terrified you. All at once, his hand that had been flirting with the idea of igniting his sabre had leapt for the weapon, lighting it bright red against the night.

Ren's voice came out quiet, deadly. “You aren't to use that name. I'll alert Snoke now and tell him; you know what punishment he'll have in store.”

Salim stood like a statue, his arms still crossed leisurely as Ren's lightsabre lingered before him. “The same punishment he gave to _you_ for flirting with the Light?” Salim let out a laugh and took a step back from the sabre so that he was standing beside Regine once more. Ren didn't move but was seething, his breath coming in too fast, too heavy. A glimmer of fear had passed his eyes, and you could see his hands twitch, lowering the sabre just an inch.

Regine and Salim began to walk away, but Salim's step slowed, and his head turned toward the column that you were still hidden behind. Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to press yourself ever further into the wall. Through the tiny slit in his helmet, you could see Salim's eyes as they focussed into the darkness, and he took a few steps toward you.

Immediately, you felt your body move through space and drag from behind the column and into the hallway so that you were standing before him, and then he was in your mind. Sharpened claws were trashing through your thoughts, cutting, pulling, destroying. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All you could do was feel the pain echoing within your mind and hear Salim's voice repeat: _A spy. An intruder. What should we do with her? Probably kill her._

A hand was at your neck, pushing you until your back was against the cold wall. It took you a moment to realise that it was Regine, her sharp fingernails digging through your scarf and against the skin of your throat.

“How much did you hear?” she asked, not so much upset as she was amused with having your pinned to the wall. “Will it matter when those memories are plucked away?”

You managed to open your eyes in the midst of Salim's ongoing attack to see Regine smiling, the torch light reflecting against her teeth. She was still speaking, but you couldn't make out all of the words. Still, the meaning came through as she belittled you, mocked your lack of sensitivity to the Force, bemoaned that someone like you would even be allowed in her presence. There was no telling how much of it she said and how much of it was revealed through Salim's thoughts that coursed through your mind.

There had once been a time in your life when you wouldn't have fought back against someone in her position—when you would have accepted that you were the slave who had to endure any punishment sent your way. But after all that had happened over the past few days, you couldn't let yourself stay weak. You couldn't allow yourself to be _owned_.

Your hands didn't feel like your own as you reached toward Regine, but with every ounce of fight in your body, you barred your own claws and managed to slice against her face with your nails. The attack was so quick that she stood stunned as three long lines began to bleed. The scratches stretched from one cheek to the other, delving particularly deep against the bridge of her nose.

Dropping you, Regine's hands leapt to her face and drew away with the smudges of bright red blood. The horror that painted her face told you instantly that this was it. She was going to kill you. Between Regine and Salim, you were dead. Completely and totally dead as Regine's rage built within seconds.

She let out a hideous shriek so contrary to her overwhelming beauty, and her hands flew back to you. But just as she was about to tear you apart with her bare hands, they froze in the air. Like a vacuum switching on, Salim's consciousness left your own as quickly as it had entered, and Regine was hurtled back a few steps with her hands still held before her. Kylo Ren stepped over, his lightsabre held aloft to separate Regine and Salim from you. He roared out in their direction and swung the sabre dangerously close to their faces.

“LEAVE,” he demanded as the sabre was brought even closer with a second swing. Regine cringed as her hands were brought back to her bleeding face, and she spat out a curse as she stomped away with Salim following behind. Ren watched as they left and threw his sabre into the ground with all his might as soon as they had turned down another hall toward their rooms. The sabre snapped and crackled, burning a chunk of marble out of the floor.

All the while, you had dropped to the floor, panting and dripping sweat as you trembled in your own furious anger. Regine's skin was beneath your nails, and you tried to swat the filth away against your trousers.

Kylo slumped over, a hand resting on his thigh as he caught his own breath. His eyes flickered toward you, but he didn't speak. Instead, he retrieved his lightsabre and reattached it to his belt, and then he stepped toward you to nearly pick you up off your feet in his rush to remove you from that place.

Ren's arm was wrapped tight around your back to lead you, and his steps were so fast that you were tripping every now and then to keep up. Like you, he was trembling. He seemed hurt, though it wasn't quite physical. There were no bruises, nothing bleeding, but he looked as though he was in so much pain that he would fall down from it.

You let your boots skid across the floor, forcing him to slow down.

“Ren, chill for a minute,” you begged.

He stopped and leaned his side against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth contorting into a grimace that made him look like he was silently sobbing. You felt like shit, but it was while watching Ren struggle before you that you realised he was in far worse shape. What had happened to him? Who had done this to him when you weren't there to be witness? Was it Snoke? Regine? Salim? All three?

Ren shook his head, hearing your thoughts. “This pain... It's my own fault...”

His eyes were still clenched shut, knees shaking as he stood. With a long sigh, you took one of his arms to place over your shoulders and helped him down the hall, surprised that he didn't protest.

It only took a minute to take Ren back to his room where he immediately collapsed onto the bed without a word. You watched with pursed lips as he tossed onto his side and fell asleep far too quickly.

Scanning through the dark, you noticed Alma in a chair by the window, her eyes flicking between you and Ren. She swept through your mind, seeing pieces of the events that had transpired. Sighing, she turned her attention back to the window, watching as the double moons made their way across the frozen sky. She wiggled a finger in your direction, and you made your way across the room to sit on the floor beside her.

“Do not leave this room,” she whispered. “You may leave with Ren or the general in the morning, but you are not to leave unaccompanied.”

“Yeah, you don't have to tell me that twice,” you commented.

“Regine is still in the halls; I hear her stalking, searching. I do not trust her to be near you. She is young. Spoiled. Insolent. She will think nothing of your murder tonight. Stay away from her from now on.”

You sighed and lied down on the floor so that you could stare at the ceiling and rub at your temples. “Even if I stay away from her, is _she_ gonna stay away from _me_?”

Alma didn't reply for a while but kept her attention strictly on the moons, their light reflecting in her eyes to make them completely white. She pulled her legs onto the chair and wrapped her arms around them. “Most likely not. Regine does as she pleases. But you have one resource that you seem to be forgetting.”

“And what is that?” you asked, not sure where she was going with this.

Alma almost laughed. “You absolute fool. You have the most powerful weapon there is against her: the favour of Snoke's favourite servant out of us all. You have General Hux.”

* * *

 **A/N:** Kylo needs ten thousand hugs.  Who volunteers as tribute?

Also,  **THIS JUST IN** , I have started another fic called [You call that a ship?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7725652).  It's a Pirates of the Caribbean / The Force Awakens crossover adventure fic, and I am not remotely sorry.

 


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